A Novelization with a Twist
by The Offbeat Alchemist
Summary: -Clock Tower 3- After her first encounter with the Dark Man leaves her shaken, Alyssa meets someone else; a mysterious and handsome young man named Edward.
1. Chapter 1: A Life Unconventional

**Chapter 1: A Life Unconventional**

Alyssa waited until after her classes were over for the day before reading her mother's letter. This had become a habit over the last three years; the letters were usually brief and didn't mention anything of real importance. Her mother often wrote about how things were at home, about the handful of lodgers staying there and providing her with her source of income, as well as offering a little companionship. Occasionally she mentioned that Alyssa's grandfather, missing these past three years, still hadn't returned.

But this time was different. This letter contained a sad message about how Alyssa had been sent away to boarding school, and her mother apologized repeatedly for what she had done. Alyssa read through the rest of the letter quickly, hoping that this time there was some scrap of explanation as to why she had been sent away for six years, but there wasn't one.

The tone of the letter was frightened and the handwriting looked shaky. Her mother was fearful of a threat that surrounded her daughter, a threat that would become more dangerous than ever as her fifteenth birthday drew near. Again, she didn't say how or why she was in danger, or why returning home was so risky, and she finished the cryptic message with a final plea to stay in hiding until her birthday had passed.

Alyssa set the letter down on the bench she was sitting on and stared off into the distance, her mind filling with images of her mother and home. She just didn't understand it; if she was in so much danger, wouldn't she be safer at home, where her mother could watch over and protect her? And if the danger would pass once she turned fifteen, why did she need to wait at boarding school for another three years? Just who or what was she supposed to be hiding from?

Sighing, Alyssa rested against the back of the bench and watched as the branches of a nearby tree, bare except for the tiny knobs of budding leaves, danced and swayed in the gentle breeze. The countryside surrounding the boarding school was beautiful, especially in springtime. She had many friends among her classmates, but nothing quite filled the void that had been created inside her when she left home. She missed the big old house she was born in, missed the colorful woods that surrounded it and the flower-filled field that was beyond it. But most of all she missed her mother.

"Alyssa," someone called, cutting through the silence of the afternoon.

It was one of her classmates, a dark-haired girl who was a little older than she was. "There's a phone call for you inside," the girl told her. "It's your mother."

The news startled Alyssa. It was odd to receive a phone call when her mother had already sent a letter. It was odd to get a phone call at all; her mother rarely telephoned the school, except during holidays and on Alyssa's birthday. Her mother always sounded sad, and their conversations were usually brief. She always hung up before her daughter could ask any questions.

Why would she be calling today when her birthday was tomorrow?

As she got up from the bench, a burst of wind suddenly took hold of the letter and whisked it away. Alyssa decided not to bother chasing after it and ran back to the school. She quickly mounted the front steps and hurried into the school's foyer, where the phones were. One of the receivers was off the hook and dangling from its shiny cord.

Alyssa seized it and pressed it to her ear, her heart pounding. Maybe her mother decided to call a day early because something had happened, like her grandfather suddenly coming back. Or maybe--Alyssa hoped against hope--her mother had changed her mind and was calling to say she was taking her home.

"Mum?" she said eagerly, her hands tightly clutching the phone. Alyssa waited for the sound of her mother's voice, but the only thing coming from the other end of the line was silence. Frowning, she pressed the receiver harder against her ear and strained to listen.

"Are you there?" Alyssa asked. "Can you hear me?"

Sometimes the connection was lost. But no; she could hear a faint crackle on the line, almost like static, instead of the dull hum that signaled that the line had gone dead. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

Alyssa was starting to feel frightened. Why wouldn't her mother answer?

From the silence came a whisper of a sound, like a rustle of clothing as someone suddenly moved. The faint sound was followed by a dull click.

Alyssa was in shock. Her mother wouldn't just hang up. She stared at the phone for several moments as the feeling that something was wrong began to creep over her. She quickly hung up and ran to her room, where she began hastily packing a small suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

Alyssa glanced up from her work before closing the suitcase and grabbing her backpack. Her roommate, Sarah, was standing in the doorway. "I have to go home," Alyssa replied quickly. She began shoving a few things into the backpack.

Sarah sat down on Alyssa's bed with a frown. "You haven't visited home in three years," she commented, sounding confused by the sudden need.

Alyssa didn't reply. She knew this was going to look funny to everyone since she hadn't left the school since she first arrived, and her mother hadn't come to visit her, either. "Does this have something to do with the phone call?" guessed Sarah.

Alyssa thought about the strange silence and the hang up. She closed the backpack with fresh determination. "I'll be gone for a few days," she said as she slipped her arms into the straps of the backpack. "It's a family emergency."

* * *

One of the many things that made Alyssa wonder why her mother never came to visit was the distance—or lack thereof. The trip from the boarding school to home only took a few hours when traveling by train, and the sun was still shining as Alyssa mounted the steps of the grand old house and opened the front door.

Everything looked just as she remembered. The main entryway was colorful and welcoming, the floor beneath her feet was so brightly polished it reflected like a mirror as she stepped off the expensive rug that adorned the threshold.

"Mum? I'm back!"

Still clutching her suitcase, Alyssa slowly scanned the room, her eyes drifting up to the second floor. The mauve carpet on the stairs looked recently cleaned, and the banister shone with fresh polish. The upstairs hall, U-shaped and walled in by the short railing, looked empty.

"I know I'm a little early," Alyssa went on uncertainly. Her voice sounded loud and strange in the empty room. Her ears strained for some sound of activity inside the house, but there wasn't any. "I know I should be at the school, like your letter said, but I had to..."

Her voice trailed off. She couldn't explain why she had come, other than the sense of dread the strange phone call had given her. Something was wrong, she just didn't know what. And she didn't bother calling out anymore--it was obvious that her mother wasn't here to greet her.

Alyssa felt uneasy inside as she set her suitcase down, not sure whether she should take her mother's absence as a good sign or a bad one. She was hoping the odd phone call was the result of a bad connection after all, and that if she stayed until her mother returned, she would be so happy to see her daughter again the 'exile' would come to an end.

A happy reunion was forming in Alyssa's mind when she heard movement in the nearby dining room. Her heart fluttering excitedly, she hurried to the half-open door and went inside. "Mum?"

Her cheerfulness faded in a hurry; the dining room was empty—except for the stranger standing in front of the window. It was a man, tall and dressed entirely in black. Alyssa had the strange sense that he was like a shadow, a spot of darkness in front of the bright afternoon light shining through the glass.

"I—hope I'm not disturbing you," she said uncertainly.

The strange man turned, but Alyssa couldn't make out his face, lost in the shadow cast by his hat. "Not at all," he declared. "In fact, I'm delighted to see you."

Alyssa absently fiddled with one of the straps of her backpack; something about him made her nervous. "Are you one of my mother's lodgers?" she questioned, at length.

"Why, yes," the man replied brightly. "I am."

His tone made Alyssa frown slightly. She didn't see why being a lodger was anything to be so happy about.

The man was peering closely at her. Alyssa shrank back. "You're looking for your mother, aren't you? I'm afraid she's gone out."

Alyssa let out a disappointed sigh. So she was gone after all. Maybe she would wait until her mother came back, and then...

"She left early this morning," the strange man added.

Alyssa's moment of disappointment was cut off by puzzlement. If she left this morning, then who had made the phone call?

Her silent question was quickly forgotten as the strange man suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her arm. Alyssa recoiled with a frightened yelp, but the man held her fast.

"It's such a delight to see you," he said again, his voice oily and syrupy at the same time. "You don't know how I've missed you."

Alyssa yelped again and tried to shove him away; was he crazy? This was the first time they ever met—she would remember someone as creepy as he was.

Trying to push him was a mistake; he took advantage of the closeness and grabbed her other arm. The shadowed face loomed close, hot breath brushing her cheek. Alyssa jerked back. "Get away!" she cried.

"Why, Alyssa, you don't seem at all happy to see me. Very well; I'll let you be for now, but we'll be together again very soon."

He let go abruptly, making Alyssa stumble back and fall on her rump. The man in the black trench coat laughed as he turned away, his cane clacking against the hard floor as he walked out of the dining room. Alyssa watched through the doorway as he mounted the main staircase and disappeared from sight. She waited until his footsteps faded away before she let out a shaky breath and stood.

Alone again, her heart continued to pound nervously as she moved around the room, hoping the familiarity of her home would help her calm down. The dining room was just as it had always been; neat, clean, and cozy. The long dinner table was bare except for a simple white lace runner, and the chairs were all tucked neatly in place. A fire blazed in the fireplace, chasing away the chill of the afternoon. The old grandfather clock ticked rhythmically away.

Alyssa waited until her nerves had settled down again before she crept to the open door and peeked out. The house seemed even quieter than it did before, but she knew the strange man was still lurking around, probably back in his room in the guest wing of the house.

The encounter had frightened her, but she knew she wasn't going to get any answers to her many questions if she stayed hiding in the dining room. So, after setting her backpack on one of the chairs, she cautiously ventured back into the entryway.

Her eyes were again drawn to the upper level, where both her mother's and her own room were. She hoped to find some clue to what was going on—a note, maybe—in her mother's room, but she hadn't built up the courage to head up there just yet. That man was up there, somewhere, and she really didn't want to bump into him again. She had never tried to—or thought about it before—but she was pretty sure she could defend herself if she had to.

She wasn't anxious to find out just how well that would turn out for her, so Alyssa ducked beneath the staircase and opened the door at the back of the room. The hallway beyond it was even quieter, if that was possible. The white walls were spotless and almost luminous in the soft light. Alyssa leaned her hands on the cabinet standing next to the wall and tilted her head back; the ceiling above her head was all glass, and curved like something in a greenhouse. It was an unusual addition, but Alyssa had always liked this section of the house.

Her eyes wandered until they rested on the door to her right. On impulse she went over and tested the knob, but it was locked. Her mother had locked it right after her grandfather disappeared, saying that he wouldn't like anyone poking around his study while he was away. Alyssa had a feeling it had been locked up ever since.

Sighing, Alyssa turned away from the door and headed back toward the entryway. Her grandfather's disappearance was just one of the many mysteries surrounding her life. If anything, she had hoped coming home would answer some of her questions, but so far she had only encountered more. Just where had her mother gone? And who was that strange man who had attacked her?

One more question crept into Alyssa's mind as she approached the staircase; was coming home a mistake?


	2. Chapter 2: Strange Boy

**Chapter 2: Strange Boy**

The ghostly quiet of the house made Alyssa nervous. Her mother had been taking in lodgers since Alyssa was a little girl, and even when they were in another part of the house, their voices could almost always be heard at any time of the day. Had they all decided to go out somewhere together?

Just another unanswerable question, Alyssa sighed as she started up the steps. Her footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet as she slowly ascended to the second floor. When she reached the landing she paused, her memory of the house still sharp and clear. She glanced to her left at the door at the far end of the hall; though she couldn't see it clearly from here, she knew the brass plate on the door read 'Philip'. The bedroom had been locked since her father's death. Alyssa had never seen what was beyond that door.

She wasn't interested in that now, her mind returning to the idea that her mother's room might hold some clue. She knew it was straight ahead and down the hall to the left, but she was torn between checking there first, or paying her own bedroom a visit for the first time in three years.

She was still trying to decide when a hand rested on her shoulder, making her shriek in surprise.

Alyssa whirled to the sound of soft laughter. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Heart still pounding, Alyssa looked the mysterious speaker over. Unlike the previous person she encountered, there wasn't anything odd or frightening about him. He was slender and fair, and dressed in a simple blue suit that resembled a school uniform. Hair the color of sunshine framed his face. His pale blue eyes, like his smile, were gentle.

"Sorry," he said again. "I must walk softer than I thought."

He was standing on the second to last step, which shortened his height and put him at eye-level with her. Alyssa held his gentle gaze for as long as she could before dropping her eyes.

"Who...?"

She was having trouble finding her tongue. Probably because she had spent the last three years in an all-girl school and hadn't had much chance to talk to boys her own age. At least, that was the excuse she gave herself to explain away her fluttering heart.

The boy placed a hand on the railing as he smiled at her. "Please excuse my manners," he said, apologizing again. "I'm used to this part of the house being empty at this time of day. I shouldn't wander around like I own the place—it's yours, isn't it? You're Nancy's daughter, Alyssa."

Hearing her own name snapped her out of her odd moment of bashfulness. "That's right," she confirmed, nodding. "I came to..."

Alyssa stopped. She really wasn't sure what she was doing here. It was her own home, yet she felt like a stranger within its walls.

"I—sort of decided to surprise my mum," she faltered. "She didn't know I was coming...so I seemed to have missed her."

The boy nodded absently. He looked like something else was on his mind, as if his thoughts had wandered while she was speaking. Probably thinking how odd it was for her to show up after being away for three whole years, Alyssa thought with a sniff.

Unless he knew nothing about that. "Have you been here long?" she asked.

Instead of answering, the boy moved aside and gestured to the stairs behind him with a smile. "This isn't a very comfortable spot to carry on a conversation. Let's go downstairs and have a seat, so we can get to know each other properly."

"Oh. Right."

Alyssa felt silly and awkward, talking to one of her mother's guests on the stairs like she had no idea how to be a proper hostess like that. The fact that the boy led the way like it were his home instead of hers only added to this feeling.

When they reached the dining room, Alyssa did her best to take charge of the situation. Putting on her friendliest smile she said, "Sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners—I didn't even ask your name."

The blue eyes grew even softer as he smiled down at her. Off the stairs, she just fell short of eye-level with his throat. He seemed a little older than she was, probably seventeen or eighteen. There was an air of wisdom around him, too, as if he had seen and knew more about the world than most twice his age. It made her a little nervous, but there was also something comforting about it.

The boy held out his hand. "You can call me Edward. It's a pleasure to meet you, Alyssa."

Alyssa lightly touched his palm, and his fingers closed around her hand firmly. "Has my mother talked about me a lot?" she asked, trying to meet his gaze and failing.

"All the time. She's very proud of you."

Alyssa could just imagine her mother rambling on about her only daughter to all of the guests. Her ears grew warm, but not from embarrassment.

Edward uncurled his fingers from hers and pulled out one of the dining room chairs. Alyssa went and sat in the chair across from him. "In answer to your previous question," Edward began, "I've only been here for a few weeks. It already feels like home, though; your mother is very kind."

Alyssa pictured her mother, always doing things for others, and nodded mutely. Now that her question was answered, she found she didn't have anything else to say. She fidgeted in her chair, feeling embarrassed.

Edward didn't seem to notice. "I must confess: I'm not a normal lodger. I don't have any money worth mentioning, but your mother lets me stay anyway. I hadn't anywhere else to go, you see, so she took me in."

That sounded like something her mother would do. Forgetting her nerves, Alyssa surveyed the older boy with renewed interest. "Where is your family? If you don't mind me asking."

Edward shook his head. "It's quite all right. I lost them so long ago I can barely remember them anymore. I've traveled all over since I was small, going from different orphanages and foster homes. Out of all the places I've been to, I think I like this one best."

Alyssa grew quiet as she tried to picture what a life like this must be like. Sometimes she felt alone, but she was never _really_ alone. She still had her mother—and her grandfather might come back someday. She couldn't imagine what it was like to have no family at all.

"My father died when I was just a baby," she heard herself say softly. "I was so small I don't remember him at all. And my grandfather left one day and never came back. We hope he'll come back safe, but..."

She trailed off, not sure why she was telling him these things. Even with her losses, she always had a safe place to stay. Her troubles didn't sound anywhere near as unhappy as having no family and no place to call home.

"I'm sorry," Alyssa said quickly. "I didn't mean—I hope I didn't sound like I was trying to belittle what you just told me."

But Edward was smiling at her. "Not at all. In a way, you've been just as much an orphan as me these past three years."

Alyssa's heart sank; so he knew about that after all. He didn't look like he thought it was odd, though, and he continued to smile as he reached across the table and rested his hand over hers.

"I think you're very brave, coming all this way by yourself. It must have been an awful disappointment to find out that your mother isn't here."

Alyssa dropped her eyes again, but only for a moment. "There's something I want to ask you about that. Did she leave today, maybe sometime this morning?"

Edward withdrew his hand and thought for a moment. "I believe she did. At least, I saw her go out, and I'm pretty sure she hasn't come back since then."

Alyssa slumped back on her chair, feeling more puzzled than ever. The man in black hadn't been lying, then, but who had called the boarding school? For a moment, her thoughts turned wild and she thought maybe _he_ had been the one. But why?

Sitting up straight again she asked, "Do you know who the strange man staying upstairs is?"

The question made Edward's smooth forehead wrinkle slightly as he frowned. "You mean the one in the dark coat? I don't believe he's a guest here."

"But you've seen him."

"Quite a lot, actually. He's been hanging around outside for about a week, but today was the first time I saw him inside. He was leaving just as I came in."

Alyssa was relieved. At least she wouldn't have to worry about running into him again. But her relief was short-lived as it occurred to her that the strange man lurking around might have something to do with her mother's sudden absence. She pushed her chair back and stood.

"It's been lovely talking to you," Alyssa said as she started for the door, "but I really want to find out just where my mum went."

Edward stood as well, a look of understanding on his face. "I'll be off to my room, then. I won't be going anywhere, so feel free to ask if you need anything."

Alyssa thanked him before hurrying back up the stairs. It was a comfort knowing that there was someone around she could turn to, but she wasn't sure just how big of a help he would be. In her experience young boys weren't all that reliable.

Back in the upstairs hall, Alyssa made her decision on a whim and turned to the right. She expected the door to be locked, but the knob turned easily, and she stepped across the threshold and entered the bright, colorful space that was her bedroom.

Everything was exactly as she remembered it. The same patterned wallpaper, the same rug on the floor. The main color was mauve, one of Alyssa's favorites. The soft color looked nice with the wood floor and paneled walls. The bright red sofa and chair looked a little out of place, but they had been in her room since she was small, and she liked them just fine.

As she went to pick up a stuffed rabbit from her dresser, Alyssa noted how clean everything was. The entire room had been dusted recently—very recently, as if her mother had been expecting her to come.

_She_ _knew_, Alyssa thought. _She knew I was going to come back._

As she set the toy down and turned away from the dresser, she was again struck by how strangely silent the house seemed. It almost seemed unnatural; there wasn't even a whisper of wind or the hint of birdsong. On impulse, Alyssa went over and switched on the television set, just to make some noise.

Instead of forming a picture, the screen showed lines of static. An annoying hiss pulsed from the speakers. "Guess it isn't hooked up to receive a signal," Alyssa muttered, switching it off again. She regretted speaking out loud; every sound she made seemed strangely close, as if the noises didn't travel like they were supposed to. Sounds within the house didn't travel outside, and no sound from outside was able to come in.

Alyssa have herself a shake; that was just silly. She turned away from the malfunctioning television and left her bedroom through the door to the right. Beyond her room was a small sitting area with a table, chairs, and a pleasant fireplace, and beyond that was the hallway that led to the upstairs guest wing.

She wasn't particularly interested in poking around over there, and she started down the long hallway that led to her mother's room. As she passed by the fireplace, something caught her eye that made her pause.

There was no fire lit, an odd sight this time of year. Her mother was always picky about keeping the large house warm—only she wasn't here right now, Alyssa reminded herself sadly. Still, there should at least be some wood in the fireplace, but there wasn't even a pile of ashes, as though someone had come by recently and removed everything, right down to the last dust particle.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Alyssa went over and knelt down for a closer look. She reached out and ran a finger along the brick wall, but there wasn't a speck of soot to be found. And the bricks looked odd, too; she didn't remember them being white. Alyssa poked them with her finger and was surprised when they clattered a little.

Puzzled, Alyssa peered closer and noticed that the bricks didn't look like they were cemented together, just stacked in place. Wondering who would go through the trouble and why, Alyssa gently pressed her hand to the white bricks. The stack shuttered and toppled over with a crash.

The young girl stared, a bit stunned, at the pile of brick and dust she had made. Behind the pile was a hole where the wall once was, just big enough for a person to crawl through. Crouching low, she saw what looked like another room, hidden within the walls of her home.

This day just kept getting stranger.


	3. Chapter 3: A Mysterious Message

**Chapter 3: A Mysterious Message**

The room hidden behind the fireplace wall was long and narrow, almost like a small hallway. The walls were brick and the floor was white tile, and though Alyssa had never seen it before she sensed that everything was quite old.

She still couldn't believe it. All the years she spent living and playing in this house, no one ever mentioned anything about secret passages. Judging by the aged look of everything it had probably been built the same time the rest of the house was. She could see every detail of the small space clearly due to the pair of old sconces hanging from the back wall, each holding a large candle that looked like it had been burning for quite some time.

So far as she could see, there was nothing of interest about or in the narrow space—except for the white statue standing at the far end. Alyssa recognized it at once as the statue of the patron saint of the Hamilton house. The beautiful white marble image had stood in the garden since she was a little girl.

It was strange to see the statue here, hidden away where no one would see it. Alyssa knew it couldn't be in here for storage, so why?

As she took a step closer her eye fell on something sparkling at the statue's feet. It looked like a bottle made from blue glass and was closed with a stopper, similar to the oil bottles used in churches. The bottle's surface glittered like the facets of a gemstone in the candlelight, but the sight didn't interest Alyssa as much as the object lying next to it—an envelope with her name on it, written in her mother's handwriting.

Alyssa snatched it up, sat down on the small platform the statue was resting on and tore the envelope open. Unlike most of her mother's letters, there was a handful of pages inside, and she quickly unfolded them and began to read.

'My dearest Alyssa', the first page began. 'If you are reading this, it means that I am gone and you have returned to the house. I have done everything in my power these past three years to keep this from happening, but recent events and discoveries have brought me to believe that this is inevitable. Perhaps it was foolish of me to even try to stop it. I should have spent this time preparing you for what's to come, but now I fear there is no time left to prepare you for what is about to happen. All I can do now is explain one of our family relics to you, though you probably will not understand what I'm about to tell you.

'This bottle is more than just a piece of glass: it is an heirloom that has been passed down in our family for generations. The bottle itself and what it contains have been nurtured and blessed over the years by its many owners, and because of that it holds more power than you can imagine. You might say the bottle contains holy water—but that is over simplifying things. The water is both powerful and blessed, but the bottle itself is a tool that will reshape itself to reflect its holder's needs.

'I wish I could tell you more, but there isn't time. Just trust me for now when I say that when you are in need, use the bottle against anyone who means you harm. Our enemies are unholy and monstrous—the water's touch will be unbearable to them.

'Another thing you must know of is the restless spirits that inhabit this world. Sometimes a person's death--particularly a person who has been killed by one of our enemies—is so horrible, their soul becomes trapped, and they wander the world of the living in despair. Their pain can often be soothed by something that was greatly important to them in life. Do whatever you can to calm the restless souls of this world, dearest Alyssa; these poor beings suffered enough in life at the hands of our enemies. They do not deserve to suffer endlessly in death.

'There is much more to tell, but there is no more time. My only hope now is that you will be strong enough to face the trials that await you. No matter what happens, remember that your mother loves you dearly.

'Your loving mother, Nancy.'

Alyssa set the letter down slowly as she blinked back tears. Her mother's words were strange and frightening, but what upset her the most was how the message sounded like a goodbye letter. And none of what she said made any sense; just what kind of enemies did the Hamilton family have? And she didn't _really_ expect her to believe that the little glass bottle had powers...did she?

Sniffling, Alyssa reached down and picked up the small bottle. It didn't look like anything special, other than it was rather pretty and looked very well made. The facet-like surface of the blue glass shimmered as she turned it over in her hands, reflecting the candlelight like tiny mirrors. The bottle felt like it had a bit of weight to it, more than she would have expected, but at the same time it seemed to fit comfortably in her hand.

She didn't know if she quite believed there was anything special or magical about it, but Alyssa felt that it was, in a way, a gift from her mother, and decided to hold on to it for now. She could always ask her mother about it later, whenever she returned from...wherever she had gone.

After drying her eyes, Alyssa got to her feet. She took the small bottle and pushed its neck up under her belt, where its gentle weight settled against her hip. She also returned the letter to the envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of her green jacket. It occurred to her that she might feel better if she changed out of her school uniform, but she didn't want to take the time to search for something else. Besides, she had been away for three years, so it was doubtful than anything hanging in her wardrobe would still fit her.

Getting on her hands and knees, Alyssa crawled back out of the hole in the fireplace. She briefly considered restacking the bricks to hide the hole, but in the end she decided not to bother; who was going to notice if no one was around? She had more important things to worry about right now.

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Alyssa started down the long hall to the left of the fireplace. At the end was another door with a brass plate attached to it; this one read 'Nancy'. Alyssa turned the knob, nudged the door open and went inside.

It only took a glance to see that her mother had gone somewhere in a hurry. The doors of her wardrobe stood open, and the handful of empty hangers hanging from the clothing bar were lopsided, as if the clothing they once held had been yanked off in a rush. A few hangers had been knocked to the floor of the wardrobe, along with a few articles of clothing.

Her mother had always been an uncommonly neat and tidy person, but the surface of her desk had papers and books left out on it, and a few of the drawers were partway open, as if someone had recently rummaged through everything in search of something. The computer sitting on the desktop was still on, but the monitor, like Alyssa's television, didn't show anything except a few wavy lines. Alyssa went over and lifted a picture that had been knocked over.

It was an old photo of her mother, her grandfather, and herself. They were playing together in the field behind their house, like they often had before she went away to school. She remembered the three of them going there for picnics when she was small, often for no reason at all except to be together. Sometimes she only went with her mother, and other times it was just her and and her grandfather. In many ways, her grandfather had been like a father to her. Alyssa missed him greatly sometimes, and the thought that he might never come home again made her heart ache.

Alyssa set the photo down sadly and went to sit on her mother's bed. She folded her hands in her lap as uncertainty came over her. "I know you told me not to come back, Mum," she said aloud, feeling the need to cut the silence. "But I couldn't help it. I've missed you so much, and I'm afraid that..."

She trailed off. She wasn't sure just what it was she was afraid of, but the worrisome feeling that something was very, very wrong wasn't going away. The feeling kept growing worse the longer she stayed in the house.

With a frustrated sigh, Alyssa leaned back on her palms. She sat up a second later with a puzzled frown; her hand had pressed down on something hard. Curious, she reached over and pulled back the blanket. Lying on top of the mattress was an old book.

It wasn't an unusual find, her mother often read books in bed, but what struck Alyssa as odd was the strange bookmark sticking out between the pages. Instead of a normal scrap of paper or cloth, the object protruding from the top of the book was the silver hilt of a letter opener Alyssa had often seen her mother use. Wondering why she had used this instead of getting up to find a normal bookmark, Alyssa picked the book up and set it on her lap. The pages flopped open to the spot the letter opener's blade was thrust in at.

Alyssa gasped and nearly dropped the book on the floor; drawn on the worn page was a picture of a man dressed in a black coat and an old hat. Though the image was little more than a rough sketch, it looked remarkably like the strange man from the dining room.

The young girl had barely recovered from the shock when something else happened, something that made her bolt up from the bed and send the book flying. The house, silent as a tomb since the moment she arrived, was suddenly filled with the sound of a piano.

"Who's playing that?" she cried out, heart pounding wildly.

But that was crazy; there wasn't a piano in the Hamilton house for anyone to play. Alyssa spun, eyes darting around until they found the small table next her mother's bed. Yes, her mother's CD player was still there; she hurried over and popped the lid. The CD sitting inside was motionless--the player wasn't even on. The music continued to play.

Alyssa backed away from the CD player as fear began to mount; music alone wasn't strange, but there was something bizarre about it. It couldn't be coming from her mother's room, yet the sound was all around her—to her left, to her right, above and behind her. The music came from everywhere and nowhere; even covering her ears didn't block out the ghostly sound.

The frightened girl jerked forward in surprise as she felt something hard bump her rear; she had backed into her mother's desk. The photograph she had just been looking at teetered and fell to the floor. The glass protecting the picture shattered. The piano continued to play at an almost frantic pace.

A light suddenly dawned in Alyssa's mind as she remembered; she wasn't alone in the house. Maybe Edward was making the music somehow—or at the very least, maybe he could hear it, too. At least then she would know she wasn't going crazy.

Alyssa darted around the desk, opened the bedroom door (though she didn't remember closing it) and ran down the hall. She vaguely noticed that it had gone dark awfully fast, whereas it had still been daylight a moment ago. Her feet seemed to slow down by themselves as she slowly became aware that the length of the hallway seemed to have increased by many feet during her brief time in her mother's room.

The music stopped abruptly. So did Alyssa. With her mouth slightly agape, she reached out to touch the wall, which now looked like damp brick instead of clean wallpaper. The air had turned cold and was filled with the smell of dust and smoke.

Alyssa was in shock. There was a cold wind blowing against her face, like she had stepped outside. And in front of her was a rusted metal gate that barred her way.

The young girl gave it a tentative shove, making it open with a noisy creak. With one hand against the cold brick for support, Alyssa leaned out and stared at the unbelievable sight that was before her.


	4. Chapter 4: Virtuoso Death

**Chapter 4: Virtuoso Death**

In the back of her mind, Alyssa was thinking that she must have lain down on her mother's bed and drifted off to sleep, while the rest of her attention was focused on what was on the other side of the old gate.

A wide, dusty street; sidewalks lined with dirt and debris; rows of tall buildings, many of them battered and crumbling. It looked like a London street, though it wasn't anything like she knew London was today.

Not that it mattered how it looked—she couldn't possibly be here. The further she stepped from the gate, the more convinced she became that she was dreaming. Though it the most startlingly realistic dream she ever had; the smells of dirt and grime filled her nostrils, and the dust in the air was so heavy she could taste it in her mouth. The breeze that ruffled her plaid skirt was icy.

For a moment the strange place seemed to be as silent as her home, but then a faint sound in the distance tickled the edges of her hearing.

The sound grew louder rapidly as it drew nearer, buzzing violently in the air like the engine of a plane. Alyssa looked up at the murky night sky and saw the vague outline of something flying through the dark clouds. She had barely focused on it when another sound cut through the air, a sound so loud and overpowering it shook the ground beneath her feet and made her shriek in fear.

Another explosion quickly followed, along with the sound of a building collapsing somewhere nearby. Bricks and other debris flew through the air and smashed against the sides of buildings and against the ground. Alyssa, close to panicking from fright, searched for a form of shelter in the hazy street. The only thing close by was an abandoned bus, and she quickly dove to the debris-ridden ground and rolled beneath the rusted vehicle.

Another explosion sounded, sending a battered oil drum rolling by. The ground rumbled and quaked beneath her as another building was reduced to a smoking pile of rubble somewhere nearby, pelting the sides of the bus with bits of brick and flaming wood. The large vehicle trembled and creaked beneath the assault, and Alyssa cringed and covered her ears as a loud screeching filled the air.

She quickly realized the screeching sound was the twisting of metal—the bus she was hiding under was starting to fall. Pulling together her last bit of strength and courage, she rolled back out from under the bus and ran to a stairwell on the other side of the street. She half-ran, half-fell down the steps and huddled, quaking and sobbing, against a battered wooden door.

The sound of the bus crashing against the pavement made her cover her ears, and she continued to sob as she waited for the attack to continue. But as the seconds ticked by, she slowly removed her hands from her ears and again found herself faced with complete silence.

Her hands quivering, Alyssa crawled back up the steps and peeked out from the stairwell. Except for the flames that were quietly consuming the bus, all was still.

Alyssa glanced at the sky as she got shakily to her feet, but it was empty again. She again tried to tell herself that it was all just a dream, but something within her didn't quite believe it.

Out of the silence rose a familiar sound; the same piano music that had frightened her so much earlier. It seemed harmless after what she had just endured, and she didn't feel any fear as she left the safety of the stairwell. She didn't feel much of anything except a lingering sense of confusion.

Her eyes were drawn to the strange hallway she had just emerged from as her muddled thoughts pondered the idea that going the way she came would somehow send her back home, but it was no use; the bus had fallen in front of the doorway, completely blocking the way. So, with a shaky breath, the young girl started walking down the crumbling street.

As she walked past tattered buildings and piles of rubble, Alyssa noticed spatters of blood on the ground and on some of the walls. She even thought she saw a body lying next to a phone booth, but she didn't have the stomach to take a closer look. Shivering, she hurried on, but she didn't feel frightened. She felt things she didn't expect; compassion for those who hadn't made it, and a determination to make sure that _she_ did. It was like a voice inside her was suddenly speaking up, telling her to be brave no matter what.

_Keep going_, the voice seemed to say. _Don't give up. You can find a way out of this._

"It would help if I knew where I was," she muttered aloud, her breath making clouds of white in the chilly air.

As if in answer to her words, Alyssa heard a loud rustle to her right. She stopped walking and looked to see a torn poster half-hanging off the corner of a building and blowing in the wind. The top edge fluttered upward, making the large words visible.

'Christmas Eve, 1942: 15th Annual Piano Concours.'

Alyssa stared, feeling stunned.1942?That was impossible. But no more impossible than walking through a hallway in her home and emerging onto a street in London, she realized. And that explained why the streets were being bombed, at least.

Pictured on the poster was a grand concert hall, where she assumed the concours were going to be held at—or had already been held at, she wasn't really sure. As she stood there she realized that the piano music, which she was starting to grow so used to she barely noticed anymore, never completed the tune it was trying to play. Somewhere near the middle the phantom player would pause for an instant and then start over from the beginning again. And something was telling her this was important, though she wasn't sure how or why.

As she turned from the poster and started walking again, Alyssa noted that she wasn't sure of an awful lot of things. She had no idea if she was really in London or if it was really 1942, she didn't know how she had gotten here, or if any of this was even really happening. But that something inside her continued to tell her to keep moving, to keep her senses sharp and her eyes open. It was as if something had awoken inside her, something she didn't know she had.

She continued walking, though her movements on the torn street were limited. Chunks of buildings and other debris blocked her path and narrowed her choice of direction to a small, tunnel-like passageway which seemed to head westward. Her way was lit by old lamps that hung from the musty walls, and on the other side of the tunnel was a stone bridge that had been half destroyed in the attack.

Alyssa approached the crumbling edge slowly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Standing against a backdrop of murky winter clouds was the same concert hall from the poster, and she felt certain it was the source of the strange music that continued to play endlessly. And though she doubted it was a very logical decision (though logic probably had little relevance anymore) Alyssa decided that finding who or what was causing the music would be her goal for now, since it had been what started all this in the first place.

Chain link fence ran along the right-hand side of the bridge, with a simple gate near the middle that led to a metal staircase supported by cris-crossing beams that reminded her of a scaffold. She descended the stairs to another section of town that appeared to be in much better shape than the part she just left.

The buildings and road were still intact, and there were no traces of debris. To her right were rows of shops, like a mini mall, and to her left was a railing that separated the street from a river. As she continued on Alyssa passed by a diner with an outdoor patio; some of the tables and chairs had been knocked over, a lamp post stood crooked and flickering, and there was another patch of blood pooled inside a police chalk outline. As she moved carefully around the mess, Alyssa wondered if the bloodstain had anything to do with the bombings, or if it was from something...else.

As she was walking past the bloodstain, snow suddenly began to fall. Alyssa shivered again and rubbed her arms through her thin sleeves, but her bare legs were defenseless against the cold. Hoping the music hall wasn't much farther, Alyssa continued on, barely noticed the shops she was walking by. As she neared a stone bridge that extended across the water, the piano music, which had been playing constantly since it started earlier, suddenly stopped.

Startled, Alyssa lifted her head and looked around, but there wasn't anything special in sight. There was only the lightly falling snow, and the bridge, which she gauged to be about in line with the concert hall she was seeking. As she was taking a step in the direction of the bridge, she happened to glance at the shop she was standing next to.

A pair of men's suits were on display in the window, and the words Norton's Tailor ran across the top of the window in bold letters. There didn't seem to be anything special about it, but the same voice that had been telling her to keep going was now telling her that the music stopping just as she neared the store wasn't a coincidence.

Even if the feeling was wrong she was anxious to get off the street and out of the cold, so she reached out and tested the doorknob. It turned easily, and Alyssa quickly pushed the door opened and went inside, grateful to finally be away from the cold winter wind.

The inside of the shop was cool, but not nearly as unpleasant as it was outside. Alyssa could see the interior of the room easily due to the small wall lamps that were glowing softly despite the late hour. A display case stood in the center of the room, there was a desk to the left of it, and a large counter was at the back of the room. To the left of the counter was a curtain for customers to dress behind, displayed near the desk was a small, brightly decorated Christmas tree, and to the right of the front door was a set of stairs that went to an upper level, probably to the private rooms of the store's owner.

As she stepped away from the door, Alyssa noticed that there was glass on the floor, no doubt from the display case, which looked like it had been smashed open. In fact, the entire room looked like it been recently ransacked; chairs were tipped over and papers littered the floor, and the front counter was a mess. The desk in the corner looked relatively untouched, though a letter lying open on top of it caught Alyssa's attention.

It was a letter from William Norton, whom she assumed was the store's owner, to his daughter, May. From the brief message she concluded that William was a soldier stationed in France, leaving May to live alone until he returned. He promised that they would take a holiday in Champagne as soon as the war was over.

Alyssa set the letter down again sadly. She sympathized with May, being left all alone like that. For a moment she almost panicked, thinking that May was probably upstairs sleeping in her bed, and here she was trespassing on private property, but she quickly calmed down again. From the look of the shop itself, no one had been in to clean in a while and, Alyssa realized sadly, she hadn't seen a hint of another living person since she arrived. It occurred to her that May was probably gone, and someone had broken in to rob the place in the owner's absence.

As she turned away from the desk, Alyssa was struck with the strange feeling that she was thinking too simply, that something that couldn't be explained by ordinary means had happened here. Feeling puzzled these strange new feelings, Alyssa moved around the desk to explore the rest of the shop. She tested the door behind the desk, but it was locked, so she went back across the room and mounted the staircase.

Shards of glass glittered like tiny stars on the steps, and when she reached the landing Alyssa discovered that one of the upstairs windows was broken. She stepped around the mess carefully and headed down the upstairs hallway. The narrow space was open on the left-hand side, like a balcony overlooking the shop below, and went straight for several feet before turning to the left. There was a door directly in front of her and another to her left; she decided to investigate the closest one first, even though she still wasn't sure just what she was looking for.

_Keep_ _looking_, the voice said. _It's important for you to be here._

The door led to another hallway, which was much shorter than the first and had a single door at the end of it. On the other side was a large bedroom that held a queen-sized bed, a tall bookcase, a dresser, and a pretty corner fireplace. Strangely, there was a fire crackling in the hearth, filling the room with a gentle warmth.

Alyssa approached the bookcase and ran a finger over a row of book bindings, but she really wasn't sure how old they were. She recognized some of the titles as classics dating back to the 1920s, but if she had really traveled back to the 1940s somehow, then none of the books were really all that old.

She turned away from the bookcase and moved to the dresser where an old-fashioned record player sat, which again promoted her to remind herself that it probably wasn't all that old, not like if she had come across it in her own time. She glanced at the stack of records propped beside it, but she couldn't tell how young or old any of them were.

As she moved away from the dresser, Alyssa's skirt brushed against the handle of a metal water pitcher that was sitting next to the record player. It fell to the floor with a clatter, making her jump in surprise. She returned the pitcher to the dresser before she continued examining the room.

There was nothing of interest on the fireplace mantle, but there was a desk on one side of the bed and a night stand on the other. Nothing on the desk looked important, but there was a small picture of a young man on the night stand.

Alyssa assumed it was a picture of William, the owner of the house and May's father. He looked happy and kind, and she had a feeling young May missed him greatly. Thinking about it made her heart sink a little, because it made her remember that she never knew her own father.

Lying next to the picture was a key. It looked too small to unlock the door downstairs, but Alyssa decided she should probably grab it anyway, and slipped it into her skirt pocket. With a final glance around the cozy room, Alyssa returned to the hall, closing the door behind her.

She returned to the main hallway and headed for the door on the left. It opened up to yet another hallway, with a row of windows on one side and a single door on the other. The lamps here were also lit, only they seemed to glow a little brighter than the rest of the house. As she approached the closed door, Alyssa noticed a dark stain on the opposite wall.

She didn't need—or want—to look closer; she could tell from a distance that it was blood. The stain was quite large, running from about the height of her shoulder to the floor. There were also smaller stains dotting the floor, and more spots of blood on the stairs that were at the end of the short hallway. Though she didn't really want to see what was on the other side of it, Alyssa tested the door near the top of the stairs; it was locked.

Alyssa couldn't help feeling a little relieved, but she wasn't sure if what lay beyond the short flight of stairs was any better. Stepping gingerly around the blood stains, she descended the wooden steps and found herself in a room that was almost as large as the main shop. It was also a little darker, and it looked like it was in even worse shape.

The floor was littered with papers and dressing dummies, and a nearby desk looked like someone had ripped through it. Another door was on the other side of the desk, and another desk, a larger, L-shaped desk, sat on the other side of the room. Standing next to it was something that looked like a bright red filing cabinet, which looked undisturbed, unlike the rest of the room. Alyssa crossed the messy floor slowly, until she was standing next to the L-shaped desk. A sloppy pile of newspapers was spread across it, and a front page article jumped out at her.

A murder had taken place on Christmas day, and the victim was May Norton.

According to the paper, May, age 12, had been on her own since her father, William, had been sent to the Front in July. May had been a pianist, and she had been practicing hard for the concours on Christmas Eve. Everyone expected her to take first place, but a mistake during her program ruined her plans. The following day the Norton family nanny found May lying on the floor and bleeding from a massive head injury. May was rushed to hospital, but it was too late; the young girl had died instantly from the blow. Though foul play was suspected, there weren't any leads.

Alyssa stepped back from the paper, a deeply unsettled feeling forming in her stomach. How could anyone be so cruel as to end the life of someone so innocent? The very idea made her sick, and angry, too, though there really wasn't anything she could do about it. All she could do was figure out just what she was supposed to do here.

As she was turning away from the desk, a terrified scream suddenly rang through the house.

Alyssa was so startled she banged her knee against the filing cabinet as she spun around. There was another scream, and another, followed by sounds of furniture being knocked around. The ceiling above her thundered and shook, like something large and very heavy was jumping around over her head.

The girl screamed again, and Alyssa's legs burst into motion. She began to run—toward the direction of the screams instead of away from them, to her astonishment. She didn't feel any fear in her thumping heart, only the desperate urge to help whoever was in danger.

She didn't have time to think about what she was going to do; she was already mounting the stairs, heading closer and closer to the commotion, which stopped abruptly as she neared the top.

The door at the top of the landing burst open violently and a small girl came flying out, a girl with two ponytails in her hair and dressed in a pretty pink dress. Alyssa couldn't tell what color her hair was, because she was drenched in blood from the crown of her head to her shoulders. Her hands, which were thrown wildly out in front of her, were also dripping with blood. The girl fell hard against the wall, in the exact spot as the bloodstain, before losing her balance and tumbling down the stairs.

Alyssa leaped back, pressed herself against the wall and watched, horrified, as the small figure slid down the stairs to the floor, where she lay motionless and bleeding. Alyssa could only stare, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth; in her fourteen years of life, she had never seen anything so horrific.

She barely had a second to process what she had just seen before a loud bang made her whirl around. Alyssa stared, stunned, as a hulking figure of a man came bursting through the doorway.

The immense being barely fit in the narrow hallway; his shoulders looked too wide for him to stand parallel to the walls, and his head nearly brushed the ceiling, even though he stood hunched over, like an animal on the prowl. A giant sledgehammer that was at least as big as Alyssa was clutched tightly in his hands; fresh blood dripped from the head.

His clothes were worn and filthy, and an odd stench permeated the air around him. His face was hidden behind a strange cowl of some kind, though the view of his grimy teeth was unobstructed as he grinned madly. A raspy laugh escaped his foul lips as a pair of wild eyes bored into her.

"_I_ killed her."


	5. Chapter 5: Unending Tragedy

**Chapter 5: Unending Tragedy**

Too paralyzed by fear to move, Alyssa shut her eyes and waited for the death blow to fall.

At least, that was what she pictured in her mind a split second before something else happened, something she was never quite able to explain.

As the being towering over her raised his bulky weapon above his head, her body jerked into motion, responding to a command she didn't remember giving. Her right hand flew to her hip and yanked the bottle from her belt, though she had completely forgotten about it all this time, and hadn't even thought to check if it had survived her tumble under the bus and down the stairs.

The glass felt cold and hard, and her hands felt stronger than she knew them to be as she pulled the top from the bottle. Her body still acting on its own, Alyssa swept her arm through the air, making a stream of water flow out of the bottle. The swift motion felt natural and right, as if she had preformed it dozens of times before.

The tiny droplets of water sparkled in the lamp light as they sailed, free as a breeze, through the air. They looked more than a little harmless next to the man-sized hammer, but their affect on the hulking figure was shocking.

The inhuman-looking man recoiled with a harsh bellow of pain, like he had just been struck by acid. The beads of water turned to coils of steam as they burned into his skin.

Though she was amazed by what she saw, Alyssa didn't stick around to watch what might happen next. Still clutching the sacred bottle, she whirled on the top step and leaped into the air, skipping over the remaining stairs altogether. It wasn't until she had already made the jump did she remember the body of the young girl collapsed at the bottom, but it was too late to change her mind.

Her feet hit the wooden floor sharply, making her buckle at the knee and stumble for a second. The body had vanished; the blood beneath her shoes was dry. Alyssa couldn't tell if the girl had somehow gotten up and ran for safety, and she wasn't about to stop and look.

Her pulse pounding wilder than it ever had in her life, Alyssa sprung over an overturned dressing dummy and vaulted over the nearby desk like a gymnast. She nearly tripped in her haste as she reached out for the door near the corner; she seized the knob and pushed, but the door refused to give, causing her to crash into it as her escape was suddenly halted.

Alyssa's hands shook as she fumbled around for a latch, nearly causing her to drop the bottle she was still clutching desperately. Behind her came a thunderous thumping as the hammer-killer descended the stairs.

There was a loud hiss of air, followed by the raspy voice of the monstrous being. "Come back, Alyssa."

The sound of her own name shook her to the core; how could that horrible thing possibly know who she was?

Her trembling fingers found the latch, and she tugged it to the unlocked position and forced the door open. She burst back into the main shop, nearly crashing into the desk next to the Christmas tree. She pushed away from the desk and continued to run as fast as she could across the glass-covered floor. Her vision narrowed on the curtained-off area in the corner; she dove for it and whipped the curtain shut.

Now hidden from sight, Alyssa huddled in the corner and tried to hold her quivering breath, her heart hammering madly in her ears. Much like when she had used the bottle a moment ago, she had run for the hiding place without thinking, like her body had acted on its own. But now that she was there, she wasn't sure if she had done the right thing.

The gauzy curtain was hardly opaque. In the soft light of the shop, she could easily make out the shapes of the broken display case and the sloppy desk. It probably wasn't assuming too much to think that this visibility went both ways.

She hadn't time to venture out and find something better; the hulking hammer-wielder burst through the doorway with enough force to tear half the wall down. Startlingly nimble for his size, he leaped up onto the desk and crouched low, again making her think of an animal on the prowl.

Her view of the shop was filtered through the purplish haze of the curtain, but she could clearly see that he was sweeping his upper body this way and that, like a beast sniffing out his prey. In fact, the snuffling noises he was making sounded an awful lot like he _was_ trying to sniff her out. The feeling that she was being pursued by some inhuman monster hit her anew, but another thought crept into her frightened mind; maybe he really was trying to sniff her out, because his eyes weren't as good as his nose.

The cowl that adorned his head, currently flapping against his shoulders as he jerked about, couldn't help his vision very much. A flicker of hope rose up inside her; maybe he wouldn't find her after all.

"Alyssa!"

The sudden shout made her jerk and nearly cry out in fear. She covered her mouth with both hands and forced herself to hold still.

The giant being hopped off the desk, making the floor shudder as he landed. "Come out, Alyssa," he demanded, his gruff voice impatient. "I promise I won't hurt you," he added, his tone and smoothing out a fraction. It sounded like he was trying to be coaxing, but it merely strengthened her resolved to keep as far away from him as possible.

"Well, I won't hurt you more than I have to," he went on, correcting himself. He reached out and knocked over the small Christmas tree with his hammer, sending glass ornaments scattering across the floor. "Just enough to get you to come along without a lot of fuss."

The broken glass turned to powder beneath his feet as he stomped to the front counter. The sudden closeness made Alyssa's heart race even faster; she watched with wide, unblinking eyes as he checked the back of the store.

"But don't think that means I don't long to kill you," he called out. He turned and kicked at an overturned chair, causing the leg to crack off and skitter to join the rest of the mess on the floor. "I'd like nothing more than to pound your skull until there's nothing left but a puddle of fluid beneath my feet. But," he added, disappointment creeping into his voice, "I've been ordered not to kill you. I can use any means I want to capture you, though...I'm thinking I should break both your legs. Maybe your arms, too."

Alyssa's mind was reeling. What did this thing want from her? And exactly who had ordered him to capture her?

She knew she shouldn't, but she was already thinking that she'd rather die than let him take her anywhere.

Her eyes drifted away from the ghoulish figure still poking around the counter and returned to the open door ahead and to her right. His back was turned, maybe if she slipped out and ran...

It was risky, but the thought of waiting until he was drawing back the curtain was becoming unbearable. If she waited until that face was peeking in at her, hidden from view behind that leather mask like some maniacal executioner...

It would be too late for her by then, Alyssa knew that for certain. Her body was already starting to tense, preparing to bolt. In her mind she pictured the back stairs, which led to the upstairs hallway, which then led back to the main shop. If she moved quickly enough, she just might make it back onto the street, where she might be able to find a better hiding place, or better yet—a way to escape completely.

It was still risky, and Alyssa felt numb with fear as she tried to map out her plan in her head. But then the killer suddenly turned away from her, heading up the stairs next to the front door. The simple wooden steps creaked and groaned beneath the great weight.

"Run all you like, I'll find you eventually," the harsh voice yelled out.

Alyssa watched through the curtain as the horrid figure mounted the stairs and disappeared from sight. She waited until the creaking overhead stopped before she dared peek out.

The way to the front door was open; if she moved quietly enough, she could escape without him noticing. But she knew that it was even more likely that he _would_ notice, and the image of him leaping onto the desk was still fresh in her mind. She could just picture him spotting her as she crossed the room, and making a mad leap over the upper railing...

Alyssa shuddered and tried not to think about it anymore. Instead she crawled out of her hiding place, stood slowly and crept to the door that led to the back room. Now that she was away from the freakish killer, she felt herself beginning to calm again, enough for her mind to start going over what she had just seen.

The murder she witnessed looked exactly like the one she just read in the paper, and even though she had never seen her before, Alyssa was positive that the victim had been May Norton.

Her eyes briefly scanned the room as she entered, but there was no sign of the body that had tumbled down the stairs. It made no sense—not that anything did anymore—but why had she witnessed May's murder after it already happened? Alyssa had accepted that she had somehow traveled back in time somewhere along the way, but that still didn't explain why she had found a newspaper describing May's death moments before she saw it with her own eyes.

She puzzled over it for the next few minutes as she looked quietly around the room, searching for anything that might give her some kind of clue about what had happened here.

The answer came to her out the blue as she suddenly found herself remembering her mother's letter, the one she found next to the sacred bottle. She repeated the part about restless spirits to herself and knew what it was she had seen.

May's body had disappeared because it wasn't really there. May Norton was already dead, and her spirit was now trapped in the land of the living. And the maniac who had attacked her was obviously one of the unholy enemies her mother had mentioned; she had figured out as much after she threw the holy water on him.

Alyssa felt oddly invigorated. She knew what she needed to do now; she needed to ease young May's suffering. She just had no idea how she was going to do that, so she continued to search the room for any other bit of information she could get her hands on.

As she was poking through the stack of newspapers again, she suddenly remembered the key she had taken from William's room. She quickly returned the bottle she still carried to her belt, fished they key out of her pocket and cupped it in her hand as she studied it closer. She hadn't noticed before, but the small key had a tiny red tag attached to it.

Alyssa lifted her head and sought for the red filing cabinet with her eyes. She found it, still undisturbed despite the recent chase, and hurried over to try the key. It fit perfectly, and she quickly unlocked the top drawer and pulled it open.

Lying in the metal drawer was a bright brass key whose top was twisted into a shape that reminded her of a flower, or a maybe crown. There was even a small pink ribbon tied to it.

Alyssa couldn't help thinking that locking up a key was a funny thing to do. It also made her think that someone didn't want the key to be put to use. Alyssa was positive she already knew what it opened--May's bedroom door. Though she hadn't forgotten that the door had practically been ripped from its hinges as May and her killer came bursting through it.

She pocketed the key just the same and did one final check of the room. She noticed for the first time that there was another door in the far corner, almost hidden in the shadows. Alyssa went closer and was shocked to find a layer of barbed wire cris-crossing over the front of the door and stapled to the frame. Obviously, someone didn't want what was on the other side of that door to be discovered, either.

Whatever it was, she wasn't getting to it now, but Alyssa was positive that getting past that door would lead her closer to helping May. She didn't know how she knew that; she just did.

Still moving as quietly as she could, Alyssa left the impassable door for now and returned to the stairs that led to the hallway outside May's bedroom. To her surprise, the door was closed again, and when she tested the handle she discovered it was locked tight.

Puzzled but not about to waste time with unanswerable questions, Alyssa quickly pulled out the brass key, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Though she doubted it would do much against a being as massive as the one pursuing her was, she closed the door and locked it again before facing the room itself.

The small bedroom was cozy, inviting and pretty, with lace curtains, papered walls and a rug to color the hardwood floor. At the same time, there was stark evidence present that something atrocious had happened here.

In the right-hand corner was a desk, half-smashed and leaning on splintered legs, though somehow the chair had escaped unscathed. In the left-hand corner was a small bed; the pillow was lying on the floor next to it, and the pretty quilt had been dragged partway across the floor. Pictures hung crookedly on the walls, and toys, clothes, and other things were scattered on the rug.

And beneath Alyssa's feet was a large bloodstain, just inches from the doorway. Realizing she was standing on the very place May Norton had been killed, she quickly stepped away and nearby bumped into a small shelf unit the was next to the door.

The articles sitting on the shelf also looked disturbed, with most of the books lying crookedly on their sides, or having fallen off to the floor altogether. One book still lying on the shelf particularly caught Alyssa's eye; a small book with the words 'my diary' printed across the cover.

It was a simple book with a sky-blue binding, and no lock to prevent Alyssa from reaching out and flipping it open to a random page.

The date written at the top was from earlier in the year, before William was sent to the Front. May complained about having to mend her father's clothes even though he himself was a tailor, but Alyssa continued to glance through the following entries, she could clearly see that the young girl loved her father dearly. There was no mention of May's mother, so Alyssa assumed that William was a widower.

A later entry caught her attention, and she stopped flipping and read closer.

'I finally decided on the piece I'm going to play at Victoria Hall. That watch Mum gave Daddy before they were married plays a special tune, and I know he thinks about her when he listens to it. I'm happy I've finally picked something, but I'm sad, too.

'Daddy told me today that he has been called to fight in France. I'll be alone until he gets back, but it'll be all right. I'm going to practice every single day, because if I win first prize, my performance will be played on the radio. My daddy will hear it, even though we'll be so far apart. He'll hear the song my mum gave him, and it'll be like the three of us are together again.'

Alyssa closed the diary and stepped away as she blinked back tears. She could picture what must have happened on Christmas Eve pretty clearly now; May had practiced her piece hard all year, only to falter when her moment finally came. She had probably come straight home, locked herself in her room and cried herself to sleep.

And then, earlier the next morning before the sun had started to rise, her killer had come for her. Dragged her from her bed, chased her around the room, and struck without mercy.

Only her suffering hadn't ended there. Her spirit was trapped now, cursed to relive her own death over and over again. Her suffering would continue forever, unless...

Wiping her eyes, Alyssa took another look around the room. There had to be something she could do, some way she could bring peace to her spirit and free her from her awful fate. Her gaze eventually found a crisp white paper lying on top of May's dresser.

It was May's official invitation to Victoria Hall in Kensington. As she was studying the calligraphy-like handwriting, it finally struck her who was playing endlessly in the night.

It was May, hopelessly repeating her failed performance. Alyssa wasn't sure just what she could do, but she knew now that her ultimate goal waited inside the concert hall. Her heart filling with determination and a flicker of hope, Alyssa set the invitation down and turned away from the dresser.

Something began thundering against the locked door with the force of a truck, making the room shake and the windows rattle.

"I know you're in there, Alyssa," the hammer-killer's voice rasped loudly. "Come out!"


	6. Chapter 6: Haunted Music Hall

**Chapter 6: Haunted Music Hall**

Alyssa nearly tripped over the edge of the rug as she backed hastily away, her mind scrambling for a way she could escape. Her eyes darted around the room rapidly, but the only exit besides the door was the pair of windows to her right, and she was on the second floor. Her hand absently reached for the bottle hanging from her waist, but she had her doubts about how affective the water would be right now.

It would stall him, but she would still have to force her way by, since his enormous body would be blocking her path.

The hammer-killer laughed as he kicked the door again, making the room shudder. Alyssa continued to back away, until she bumped into the desk chair. The room kept on shaking, but the door, which she thought should have turned to a pile of sawdust by now, didn't cave in or splinter.

_He's playing with me_, thought Alyssa grimly.

"Come out, come out," the maniacal killer sang, laughing again.

Heart pounding, Alyssa turned around and gripped the back of the chair for support. She had escaped once before, but the thought of him catching her now left her dizzy with fear. She was torn between trying to hide again and facing him head-on, but she hadn't time to decide; the door suddenly tore from its hinges and crashed to the floor behind her.

Alyssa didn't waste a second. She hoisted the feeble chair over her head and hurled it at the killer's face, hoping it would distract him long enough for her to run by.

The massive being just laughed and swung his hammer, breaking the flimsy furniture to pieces. Alyssa was already in motion, barreling toward the doorway like a shot. But there was no room for her to run around him and she ended up crashing into his sweaty midsection.

Caught off guard, the killer stumbled backwards, tripped on the threshold and fell back out into the hall. His head crashed against the wall, right beneath the bloodstain, and he slid to the floor in a heap.

Alyssa's head was spinning. She struggled to sit up, but the floor felt warm and lumpy beneath her hands. She lifted her head and realized, with absolute horror, that she was lying on top of the hammer-wielding murderer.

His body was still and his breathing was slow, but Alyssa didn't feel like sticking around to make sure he was really unconscious. She rolled off, scrambled to her feet and started running. She raced down the stairs, ran through the back room, flew through the main shop and returned to the street through the front door.

Her shoes clapped noisily across the stone street as she raced to the bridge, praying with all her might that the concert hall wasn't much further. Just as her feet touched the wide bridge, she heard the sound of a door crashing open behind her, and her own name echoed through the night.

Alyssa didn't pause or look back, but kept her eyes straight ahead as she tore across the bridge as fast as she could. There was lamppost in the center, but Alyssa didn't so much as slow down as she curved around it. The bridge opened up to another road and Alyssa turned and ran down it, though the strength was beginning to leave her legs. Her lungs were starting to burn and she gasped for breath, but she refused to slow down as images of a giant hammer swiping at her head flashed through her mind.

She could hear the killer behind her, hear the raspy sounds of his breath and the scuffing of his feet on the pavement. She couldn't tell just how close he was, and she didn't dare look over her shoulder to check.

The concert hall suddenly sprang into view. She could see its domed roof stretching above a tall stone fence, and renewed strength coursed through her tired legs as she steered for the open gate. She burst into a wide courtyard, with neatly trimmed trees and shrubs lining the paths and a grand fountain in the center. She veered around the fountain and dashed for the front steps, kicking through a pile of discarded cans on the way.

The cans continued to rattle across the path behind her as she mounted the stairs, and when the sound faded the only thing she heard was the gentle hiss of the flowing fountain. With her hand on the ornate door handle, Alyssa finally paused and risked a peek over her shoulder.

The courtyard she had just torn through was empty. Though her heart was beating wildly and her legs were trembling, Alyssa wasn't ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. Her pursuer might be lurking behind one of the trees, waiting for her to lower her guard. Determined not to give him that satisfaction, Alyssa quietly opened the massive door and stepped inside the regal Victoria Hall.

The foyer had bright paneled walls, chandeliers hung over her head and lit her way, and black and white tile shone beneath her tired feet. Across from her was a front desk, almost like something a hotel would have, complete with a registry book and a quill pen sitting in an ink well. There were two hallways on either side of the desk, with multiple doorways running along each.

She chose the right-hand path, which altered between short sets of steps and long landings as it curved inward. The doors all had velvet ropes strung across them, and there were signs marked 'off limits' hanging from them. Alyssa reached over one of the ropes and tested a handle; the door was locked, so she continued on. The hall continued to curve, and Alyssa was pretty sure if she kept going she would wind up in the foyer again.

Going back the way she came didn't interest her, but the large set of double doors she came to did. There were no ropes here, and when she tested the handles, the doors swung outward easily.

The room on the other side was long and wide. It was also extremely dark, with no light worth mentioning in sight. As she stepped across the threshold, Alyssa glanced over her shoulder, but there hadn't been any sign of her pursuer since she arrived.

Moving in the thin path of light shining through the open doors Alyssa made her way across the room, which looked like a massive auditorium. There were rows and rows of seats, like a movie theater. They were all facing the front of the room, which was raised up and had a thick velvet curtain draped along the back. In the center of the stage was a polished grand piano.

Alyssa mounted the stage steps slowly, her eyes on the lovely instrument. She hadn't noticed until now, but the music hadn't started again after she left the tailor shop. The piano stood silent, the keys motionless.

But as she took a step closer, a phantom spotlight suddenly sprung to life, eerily illuminating the instrument from above. Alyssa jumped back with a gasp; the ivory keys were stained red with blood. As she stared, horrified, the keys seemed to depress on their own, with no fingers to play them in sight.

The same tune she had been listening to all night filled the air, as frantic and desperate as ever. Alyssa spun around, her eyes searching the dark as her rational mind tried to find another source of the sound. But no; the music was coming from the piano, and when she turned around again, she realized that there was someone there after all.

The ghost of May Norton sat on the bench, still drenched in blood from head to waist. Alyssa shrieked and recoiled at the sight, but May paid her no mind. Her stained fingers continued to dance across the keys, still playing the song she had tried so hard to master. When she reached the point the song had been halting at all night, May paused. Her head drooped pitifully, and a strangled sob escaped her lips.

Only a brief moment passed before she raised her head and started over again. Alyssa crept closer, her fear retreating as quickly as it had come. She only felt pity now as she watched as May hopelessly tried again and again to finish playing the piece she had failed to complete in life. But every time she reached the middle portion she would falter, and another tortured sob would escape her lips before she lifted her head and tried again.

Alyssa felt a pang in her heart, but she wasn't sure what she could do. She felt sure that finishing the piece would sooth May's soul, but she didn't recognize what May was trying to play, or else she would have gladly sat down and tried to help her through it.

When May stopped again, Alyssa heard a faint scraping sound. It sounded like it came from above, and she lifted her head and saw rows of metal catwalks stretching across the ceiling. And leaning over one of the rails was the hammer-killer, who grinned wildly at her before he hurled himself into space.

May screamed in terror and ran for cover as the monstrous being landed on the stage with a crash that knocked Alyssa off her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw May vanish from sight, like a light blinking off. Alyssa dove beneath the piano as the hammer fell, sending splinters of wood flying.

Alyssa rolled to the other side and half-ran, half-crawled to the back of the stage. She saw a split between the curtain and ran for it, hoping against hope that there was a door on the other side, or some other form of escape.

With the killer breathing down her neck she found herself in a narrow space behind the curtain, dimly illuminated by the light still shining from above. Alyssa could see all the way to the back, and she realized with growing horror that she had made a mistake; there was no way out.

But there was no way to turn back now, and she continued to run as she tried to find a way to safety. The curtain was too thick and heavy to push out of her way; she would have to fight her way through like she did last time.

As she neared the end of the narrow passage she spied a small lever protruding from the wall. Without bothering to think about what it might do, Alyssa reached out and tugged with all her might.

There was a creak, followed by a metal grinding, and then part of the catwalk began lowering rapidly to the floor. The hammer-killer glanced up, pausing his pursuit for a moment. Spots of blood suddenly appeared on the floor between them, and then a corpse came crashing down with a wet thump.

Alyssa was too caught up in her own peril to cry out in alarm. Her brutal pursuer, on the other hand, chuckled as he nudged the body out of the way with his foot. A second later the catwalk cracked against his head, and continued pushing him downward until he was flattened against the floor.

Dizzy with relief, Alyssa sank to he knees for a moment as she collected herself. The maniacal killer looked like he had been knocked out again, and the body lying next to him seemed like it hadn't been dead for very long. Alyssa looked up again at the space between the catwalks and wondered just how the poor man had gotten himself pinned up there.

Now wasn't the time to worry about it, and she had just enough space to slip past the unconscious killer without walking on the catwalk itself. As she sidled by, her foot kicked something hard.

Alyssa looked down and saw a large key lying on the floor. Her eye flicked to the corpse lying crookedly on the other side of the passage for a moment before she bent and scooping up the key, which had a label marked 'manager' taped to it. Slipping the key into her pocket, she continued sidling along until she was past the catwalk, after which she broke into a soft run.

Careful not to make too much noise, she descended the steps and moved back into the auditorium. The soft light shining from above was illuminating part of the walls, and Alyssa could now see there was a door near the foot of the stairs. She hurried over and tested the knob; it was locked, so she quickly made use of the key.

On the other side of the door was a small hallway, with sofas lined up along one wall and pictures hanging on the other, so guests could have something to look at while they relaxed. It was much brighter here, too, thanks to the rows of sconces. As she looked up and down the hall, Alyssa found herself faced with a decision; there was a door to her left and a door to her right. Whenever she encountered such a choice, she usually went to the right, so she headed toward the right-hand side of the hallway.

The door at the end wasn't wooden and pretty like the others she had seen so far, but was made from a heavy form of metal that was looking a touch rusty. The corridor she found on the opposite side was no less grand, however; the walls looked like they were made of marble, and the floor beneath her feet gleamed in the light, even though it was much dimmer here.

Alyssa climbed a short set of stairs and emerged in what looked like some sort of sitting room. There was a vase of flowers on a pedestal in the middle of the room, and a sofa and desk was off to the side. Alyssa didn't see anything of interest, so she continued down the corridor that extended to her right.

As she was mounting another set of stairs, she realized that she really didn't have any idea what she was looking for. But the voice inside her, the one that had been prodding her constantly since she arrived here was now telling to keep looking, to snatch up anything and everything that might help her save May. Alyssa was also keeping her eye open for something that might help her get rid of May's tormentor, and it occurred to her that putting the poor girl's soul to rest and ridding the world of the insane killer probably went hand in hand.

It would probably do Alyssa herself some good, too, since he seemed fiercely determined to apprehend her for reasons she couldn't fathom.

She kept her ears open for any sign of thumping footsteps behind her as she mounted another flight of marble stairs and reached another metallic door. Judging by the lack of decoration on the walls and how far away she was from the performance portion of the hall, Alyssa guessed she was in a section meant only for employees.

As she suspected it might be, the door was locked, but she had no trouble opening it with the master key she carried. As she crossed the threshold, she found herself stepping onto the same sturdy metal catwalk she had seen from below minutes ago. Alyssa looked down through the mesh beneath her feet and saw she was standing directly above the concert stage. She could see the piano clearly, but there wasn't anyone at it.

The catwalk stretched out in front of her until it reached a brief wall, which was lined with what looked like a set of cluttered shelves. The catwalk also extended to her right, and further out she could see a line of boards laid across support beams. She couldn't tell exactly where they led, or if there was anything useful on the shelves; it was too dim to make out any real detail.

There were lanterns on the walls, but only a handful of them were lit. Alyssa's instincts were telling her that there was something important here, something that could help her finish what she sought to do. Only it was too dark to find anything, and the lanterns that needed to be lit were out of reach; a section of the catwalk was missing.

Alyssa moved carefully to the edge and peered down, and found herself looking at the narrow passage behind the stage curtain. She could just make out the body of the manager, still lying crumbled against the wall. The portion of the catwalk she had lowered was still on the ground below, leaving an uncrossable space in its place. Alyssa frowned and continued to scan the area below her, but there was no sign of an unconscious killer.

Breathing deeply to steady herself, Alyssa backed away from the edge and started for the door. She had no choice but to go back the way she came and pull the lever again. She just hoped there wasn't a large hammer waiting for her along the way.


	7. Chapter 7: A Treacherous Crossing

**Chapter 7: A Treacherous Crossing**

Alyssa scarcely dared to breathe as she crept back down the stairs. The small sitting room was as quiet as before, but she kept glancing over her shoulder as she moved past the shadowy part of the room and started down the next flight of stairs.

She felt better once she was back in the hallway again, where there were no dark corners for anyone to hide in. Her view of the door that led back into the auditorium was bright and clear, and she quickened her pace as she went to open it.

She suddenly paused, her hand outstretched. Had she closed it earlier? She couldn't remember. She was pretty sure she hadn't, but she hadn't really been paying attention, either. Maybe even when she was facing great peril she was still unconsciously being tidy, thanks to the manners drilled into her by her mother and teachers.

She was still trying to build up the courage to open the door when someone else did it for her, with enough force to crack the paint off the walls.

The edge of the door caught Alyssa's outstretched hand, making her jerk back with a shriek of pain and fear. She stumbled and fell back on her rear, and her monstrous pursuer laughed jovially as he twirled his hammer above his head. "Surprise!"

Something surged through Alyssa's core, but this time it wasn't fear. It was something hot and fierce, and she quite surprised to realize it was anger. She was angry at this being for getting so much pleasure from the suffering of others, and she yanked the bottle from her belt without hesitation.

Still sitting on the cool floor, she whipped the water at his head and scrambled to her feet as the droplets hit their mark. The inhuman creature recoiled with a pain-filled holler, clutching his face with his empty hand. Alyssa shoved him as hard as she could before hurtling through the door, slamming it behind her. Anything to slow him down...

Legs pumping, Alyssa made a beeline for the darkness. Her own eyes weren't adjusted yet and she nearly tripped over a row of seats, but the memory of him searching for her unsuccessfully in the darkened shop was fresh in her mind. Feeling her way along the row, she moved to the far end of the auditorium, where she crouched low behind one of the seats.

Lowering her head to the floor, she could see the side door between the chair legs. She knew she must have really been running, because her wildly beating heart managed another handful of thumps before the door crashed open. Her pursuer growled as he jumped through the opening and crouched low, snuffling the air like he had before. Alyssa drew in her gasping breath and held it, but she remained where she was.

What she wanted was to flee clear into the night, but that wouldn't get her anywhere. Something she needed was hidden here, and she wasn't going to leave until she found it. Her brief moment of anger was gone, however, and the familiar icy sense of fear was starting to creep over her again.

Alyssa hunkered lower and continued to watch as the murderer slunk up and down the rows of seats, grunting and muttering to himself under his breath. Alyssa expected him to yell out her name again, but he didn't.

He was getting awfully close to her hiding place, though, and her body tensed up as the urge to run grabbed hold of her. She forced the urge down, trying to keep her animalistic instincts for survival at bay as she slunk along the floor, keeping out of sight as she moved to another row of seats.

When she reached a spot that was about halfway between the stage and the exit behind her, she held still again and waited. She couldn't see him anymore, but she could hear him as he lumbered around in the darkness. He wasn't saying anything, but his movements alone sounded angry. She almost expected him to start smashing things.

The room suddenly went silent. With her hand over her mouth to keep back the sound of her breath, Alyssa risked a peek over the arm of the chair she was hiding behind. For a moment she saw nothing, but then the hulking figure suddenly vaulted up onto the stage. She quickly recoiled back into the shadows.

His back to her, the hammer-wielding maniac checked beneath the piano before moving to the back. As he peeked behind the curtain, Alyssa tensed again, realizing this was her chance.

It was risky, but if she ran hard enough, maybe she could reach the side door before he saw her. She wasn't sure what else lay inside the vast music hall, but she hoped she would at least find a better place to hide.

And then something happened she didn't expect. The killer grunted loudly, a sound of defeat, and disappeared. Alyssa stared, stunned, but couldn't deny what she had just seen. The strange being had up and vanished in a swirl of purple light.

Alyssa waited a little more, but then realized she needed to make the most of the time she had and stood from her hiding place. She expected the massive being to jump out at her as she crossed the room, but all was still as she returned to the space behind the curtain. Careful not to disturb the unfortunate soul still lying on the floor, Alyssa hurried to the back and pulled the lever.

Once the catwalk was securely in place again she hurried back to the stage. As she neared the steps she received a fright that almost caused her to trip and take a tumble off the side of the stage; May decided to start playing again.

After casting a saddened glance in the ghost-girl's direction, Alyssa hurried on and returned to the hallway. Since it was still too dark to explore the catwalk, she headed to the left side this time.

There was another set of double doors at the end, and Alyssa pushed the right-hand one open before cautiously peering into the next room.

The room was square-shaped, with more roped-off doors on one side and a winding set of stairs straight ahead of her. Everything seemed empty and quiet, so Alyssa stepped through the doorway and headed for the stairs.

She didn't hear a thing, but a sudden movement she caught a glimpse of behind the open door instinctively made her throw herself to her left as hard as she could. She fell to the floor and coiled herself against the wall, and the head of the giant hammer missed her legs by less than an inch. Chunks of marble crunched beneath her feet as Alyssa scrambled for the stairs, her attacker close at her heels.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked as she felt a gust against the back of her head that signaled the hammer was far too close this time.

"Just stop running, and I won't have to hurt you," the killer sneered.

That was the last thing she was going to do. As she neared the first landing, she reached down and pulled the bottle from her belt as she turned onto the next flight of stairs. Without stopping, she rotated her upper body just enough for her to fling a volley of water behind her.

The hulking being recoiled with pained yell, and Alyssa's feet pounded the checkered tile as she continued up the stairs. She reached a narrow landing that had another door at the end of it, and she flew through it and down the hall on the other side.

"Where are you?" the killer behind her bellowed.

Alyssa felt grim satisfaction at knowing that no matter how hard he tried to catch her, he was too bulky to catch up with her. If she could just find a place to hide before she was in his line of sight again...

Exactly what she was hoping for lay at the far end of the hallway, and with a fresh burst of speed Alyssa raced to the row of lockers lining the wall and yanked the closest one open. The narrow space inside was empty, giving her enough room to cram herself inside and close the thin door.

But once she was inside, she saw that it wasn't that great a place to hide after all. The door was flimsy, and there were three vent holes directly in front of her eyes. She hoped his vision was too poor to see her through the narrow slots, but she had her doubts.

On top of that, the door wouldn't stay shut. Alyssa felt ready to faint when it started to creak open—just as her hammer-carrying pursuer barreled through the door at the other end of the hall. Her fingers were like ice as she grappled for a way to hold it shut, but all she could find was the back of lock, which had a thin strip of metal that turned vertical when the door was unlocked and horizontal when it was locked. Alyssa clung to it with her fingertips as best she could as the one searching for her so relentlessly began stomping closer.

The locker door rattled a little as he drew near, and Alyssa was afraid it would pop right open. She wasn't sure what she would do if it did. She couldn't keep on shoving her way past him—he would snag her eventually.

"Damn it, where did you go now," the massive being grumbled, mostly to himself.

Alyssa ducked her head as best she could and held her breath again. She unconsciously shut her eyes, too, as she listened to the sounds of him moving around the hall. She heard him open another door, and his heavy footsteps gradually grew softer. When they faded away altogether, Alyssa sneaked a peek through the vents again.

There was a doorway to the left of her hiding place, and it seemed like the determined murderer had gone to investigate whatever was on the other side.

Her heart nearly stopped when he suddenly lumbered back into view, causing the wooden door to rattle violently on its hinges as his hammer smacked against it. The locker door rattled, too; Alyssa tightened her grip on the lock.

The hammer-wielder let out a frustrated grunt and was briefly surrounded with a circle of purple energy. When the colorful light faded, so did he.

Alyssa wondered just how he was doing that, but it explained how he was able to move around so quickly. As she crept back out of the locker, it dawned on her that she couldn't count on him staying in an area she left him behind in, or for him to follow the same path she had come from. He could easily pop up in front of her, even on the other side of locked doors, if he had some form of mystical travel at his disposal.

The thought left her feeling shaky, and she clutched her glass bottle tightly in her hands as she moved to the room connected to the hall. She passed through another seating area, one that looked down over a marble railing at the stage below. Alyssa cast a glance downward as she passed by; May was still perched on the bloodstained piano bench.

The sight made Alyssa strengthen her resolve, and she continued on with renewed determination. She came across another door that was roped off and decided to try out her manager's key, but it didn't fit. Moving on again, she passed through an unlocked door at the back of the rows of seats and mounted another set of stairs.

At the top was another hallway, with two sets of double doors on the left-hand side and another roped off door on the right. Alyssa tried the first set of double doors and discovered they were locked, and her key didn't work on them, either.

She had better luck with the next set of doors; one of them was already partway open. Alyssa looked carefully around before she dared step inside, but she didn't sense anyone nearby.

The room was was wide and long and appeared to be used for storage. There were instruments stacked everywhere, with everything from harps to drums to another grand piano. Behind the piano was another set of doors, and judging by the length of the room they were the same doors she had seen in the hall. Only with the piano and other instruments blocking her path, there was no way for her to reach them even if they weren't locked.

Moving carefully so not to knock anything over, Alyssa looked around the room for anything that might be useful. To her left was a clothes rack, with lovely gowns and other dress clothes that were probably used for performances.

As she was admiring them, a sound like a small pebble hitting the floor came from the back of the room. Frowning, Alyssa peered over the piano and saw what looked like a puff of white dust billowing from the wall.

An instant later the entire wall burst inward like it had exploded, and the grinning maniac came tearing into the room hammer first.

Alyssa was startled and frightened, but she was also annoyed; wasn't he _ever_ going to give up?

"You're not getting away this time," the bulky killer snarled. He jumped on top of the piano, making it groan beneath his weight.

Alyssa tightened her grip on the glass bottle, but she withheld it for now as her eyes scanned her surroundings again. The instruments and boxes stacked next to the piano didn't look very sturdy, and she imagined if she knocked them over somehow...

Her gaze fell on a nearby violin case, and she quickly seized the handle and let it fly. The killer laughed as it sailed harmlessly over his head, but he let out a cry of shock a second later as the case struck the stack towering over his head, making it teeter and fall.

Alyssa had to back up as boxes, cases and instruments rolled everywhere, burying her attacker beneath an unpleasantly heavy pile. A cello tipped over and bumped against the rack of clothes, causing a jacket to slip off its hanger. It hit the floor with a metallic clunk.

Curious, and not afraid of being attacked at the moment, Alyssa bent and lifted the jacket. A shiny cigarette lighter slipped out of the pocket and landed on the floor with another clunk. Alyssa grabbed it with a sense of satisfaction; she had a way to light the lanterns now.

She returned to the ground floor in a hurry and made her way back to the catwalk. Moving quickly, she began lighting the darkened lanterns one by one. Once they were all lit, they cast a bright glow of candlelight that shone across the catwalk and the line of boards.

Alyssa checked the shelves first, but there wasn't anything there except nails, screws, and various bits of wire. Not ready to give up, she turned and inspected the rest of the catwalk, then looked out across the boards. She saw for the first time that they made a path to another section of catwalk, though she had a hard time believing that anyone could cross them safely.

But as she continued to look down their length, she realized that someone must have done it at least once; there was a bright red toolbox sitting on the far catwalk.

_There_, the voice inside her suddenly piped up.

With a look of disbelief on her face, Alyssa went over and poked the first board with her toe. The thin plank of wood shuttered a little.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The narrow board made a bridge from the catwalk to the first support beam, and another bridged that beam to the next one. There was a total of three boards, and not one of them looked safe to walk across.

_You have to_, the voice insisted.

The voice didn't speak to her with words exactly. It was more of a feeling, an instinct that had never spoken up before that now guided her actions firmly. Very firmly; Alyssa pictured herself walking safely out of the room, and she practically felt like there was a hand holding her in place.

"Don't be a coward. Poor May is dead, but you're still alive. You can't run away when you have the power to do something."

Several seconds ticked by before Alyssa realized that she had spoken these words out loud. As the looked down at the stage again, so far below, she remembered that helping May would also help herself. She was convinced that saving May was the only way to get back home.

Alyssa took several deep breaths to steady herself, but she still quivered with nerves as she stepped onto the first board. The narrowness of it forced her to put one foot in front of the other, and she felt like a tightrope walker as she put her arms out to steady herself.

The board wiggled and creaked, but it felt surprisingly firm and steady as she made her way across. It didn't feel like it was going to break, at least, but she knew it would probably tip if she moved too close to either side. As she neared the center, it occurred to her that this was just about the worst place to be when her pursuer caught up with her.

If that happened, she made up her mind to toss herself off the board to the stage below, just to keep him from having the satisfaction of capturing her and taking her to wherever it was he planned to take her. She might wind up a ghost on the bench next to May if she did, doomed to haunt the music hall forever. If she did, the first thing she would do would be to teach May a new song—a really annoying one. Something really grating that would chase away the sweaty lunatic but good.

The direction her thoughts were taking almost made Alyssa giggle; being up so high was making her silly. She quickly focused all her attention on her goal, keeping her eyes glued on the toolbox. She had almost reached the safety of the first support beam when the board suddenly wobbled sharply, making her teeter dangerously on one foot.

Alyssa's head swam and filled with a vision of her own death, but she managed to right herself again and practically hopped onto the safety of the support beam. She took a moment to steady herself again before continuing on.

She managed to make it across the second board without incident, but when she reached the third one, it shook so much she thought for sure that everything was over. But through sheer force of will and a lot of arm whirling, she stumbled through the final step and planted her feet on the safety of the metal catwalk. Her knees nearly buckled in relief.

Though she wanted to sit down and have a rest, she knew now wasn't the time, and she quickly opened the toolbox and began rummaging inside it. When her hand enclosed around one tool in particular, she knew she had found what she had been looking for.

After pocketing the tool, Alyssa turned and started the precarious return trip. Either because she had grown used to the height, or she was calmer now that she knew she was closer to saving May, the second walk across the boards wasn't as bad as the first, and she reached the other side about twice as quickly.

Her feet had barely touched the catwalk when a being built like a house came leaping through the open door with all the grace of a charging bull. A hammer bigger than her head pointed in her direction.

"Now," the grinning maniac hissed, "you have no where else to run."


	8. Chapter 8: A New Power

**Chapter 8: A New Power  
**

Alyssa's first instinct was to run back the way she came, knowing there was no way he could follow her across the boards. He was too heavy and too bulky to even attempt it, and she began sliding her foot backwards as she kept her eyes glued to the being still approaching her.

Big mistake; she felt the back of her foot hit the board, causing it to slip off the edge of the catwalk and fall to the stage below. The sound of it landing echoed through the otherwise silent room.

Her slip up was met with insane laughter. "Nice going," the killer cackled. "I think I'll send you down with it."

As he spoke, he jabbed the head of the hammer at her, forcing her to back up further or suffer from broken ribs. All at once her foot slipped off the slick metal and Alyssa felt herself drop into space.

Her arms thrust out automatically as she fell back, the need to save herself outweighing the need to escape the being still leering at her from above. Her scrambling fingers somehow grasped the edge of the catwalk, halting her fall.

Alyssa looked briefly down at the stage, so far away from her dangling feet, before lifting her head and looking up at her tormentor again. He had his hammer propped against his shoulder, and the insane grin grew even wilder as he drew closer to the edge.

She realized what he was about to do an instant before he did it, and was barely able to yank her hand out of the way before his massive foot crashed down on the mesh. The catwalk vibrated, causing the fingers of her other hand to slip a little. She tightened her grip desperately, but she knew she had no hope of holding on if...

Alyssa let out a shriek of pain as a heel as broad and heavy as a brick smashed down on the tips of her fingers. The throbbing digits jerked stiff on reflex and she plunged back into space. Her body flipped as she fell, putting her at an angle where she could see the hard wood of the stage rushing to greet her.

In one last desperate attempt to save herself, Alyssa threw out her good hand and grabbed wildly for the the stage curtain. Twice she felt the thick velvet brush her fingers before she was able to grab something substantial, but she managed to seize a handful and her fall jerked to a stop.

Above her, she heard a howl of outrage as she began slipping down the front of the curtain like a rope, using her injured hand as a guide despite the pain.

The instant her feet hit the floor, Alyssa took off running. She made a beeline for the front hall, not bothering to glance back as the howls continued.

Once she was through the front doors, she raced through the cold night, heading back across the bridge toward the tailor shop. She didn't pause to catch her breath until she was inside and standing in front of her final destination--the door that was wired shut.

Once there, Alyssa finally stopped running. Panting heavily, she withdrew the item she had taken from the toolbox out of her pocket; a pair of wire cutters.

With frequent glances over her shoulder, she went to work snipping the thick barbed wire, a job that was difficult and slow due to the thickness of the wire. As soon as the last piece was cut and the way through the door was open, Alyssa turned the knob and went inside.

She found herself in what looked like a cozy sitting room. There was a sofa, a bookshelf full of light reading, a covered table with a vase of dried flowers, and another fireplace in the corner. Like the one upstairs, there was a small fire burning, though there were no other signs that anyone had been here recently.

Directly across from the door was a small piano. Alyssa could easily picture young May sitting on the cushioned bench, practicing her heart out for the upcoming recital. She absently ran her hand across the lid before moving on.

Her other hand still ached, and she rubbed her tender fingertips as she looked carefully around the room. There didn't seem to be anything of interest hidden away, but Alyssa kept searching, feeling certain that the answer to May's problem was here somewhere.

Eventually she reached the fireplace. There was the traditional kind of clock usually found on a mantle, and next to it was a pretty wooden box. Her heart filling with hope, Alyssa quickly opened the lid.

Her guts instincts were finally paying off; resting at the bottom of the box was a large pocket watch, and Alyssa knew immediately that it was the same one May had described in her diary. She cupped it in her palm and carefully opened it with her good hand, and the melody May had been struggling to play for so long filled the room, as soft as the tune of a music box.

Alyssa was almost overwhelmed with relief. May could finish her song now, and hopefully bringing her peace would open the way home again.

As she was carefully placing the watch in her jacket pocket, Alyssa noticed there was a small photo propped in the corner of the box. Pictured in it was William Norton, and sitting on his lap was May.

Only it wasn't the tortured soul Alyssa knew; it was a little girl with a face full of joy. She was dressed in a white sweater and plaid skirt, and her shiny hair was the color of sunshine.

"Soon," Alyssa promised with a sniff. "You'll be able to rest soon."

She was about to close the box when she spied something else, something crumpled up and stuffed behind the photo. Curious, she pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

It was a newspaper article, and according to the date, it was from September 10th, 1941.

'We can all sleep a little easier tonight, thanks to the efforts of our local law enforcement. After weeks of relentless searching, serial killer Robert Morris has finally been captured and hung. Eye witnesses claim that Morris groaned and wailed in an almost inhuman way while thrashing like an animal even as he dangled from the rope. Later, spectators reportedly were passing out due to an incredible stench coming from the fresh corpse.

'Morris, 32, had been a mild-mannered factory worker, until one day he struck down and killed a fellow employee with a single blow from a hammer, without provocation. No one has been able to explain the extreme change in behavior, but Morris went on to slay 11 more unfortunate souls before his capture.'

Alyssa set the article down with a puzzled frown. She was positive that the man executed was the same one she had been running from all night, but according to the date he had been hung over a year before May's death.

She had known it all along, deep down, but now she was truly faced with indisputable evidence that she wasn't being chased by a man, but by some undead monster.

Though the thought made her shudder, she turned and headed for the door with firm resolve. She was going to save May, no matter what.

When she stepped outside again, the night was still and silent. No sound drifted from the concert hall, and the snow had stopped falling, too. Alyssa walked back to the hall with growing apprehension.

As she entered the courtyard again, she quickened her pace. Her hand slipped into her pocket and clutched the watch tightly as her heart pounded. _Soon_, she repeated to herself.

Alyssa was passing the fountain when wicked laughter made her look up. Sitting on the edge of the roof over the entrance to the concert hall was the late hammer-killer Morris, grinning at her with sadistic glee.

Alyssa quickly scurried back as he jumped down from his perch. Though he held his hammer like he were ready to smash her to pieces, she didn't feel afraid anymore.

"You can't stop me from saving her, Robert," she said boldly.

Hearing his own name made him laugh again, but he didn't sound as jovial as he had a moment ago. "So, you've figured me out, have you? Clever girl."

He lunged at her as he spoke, but Alyssa dodged and darted around the other side of the fountain, trying to keep the object between them.

It didn't work as well as she would have liked; still agile for his size, the undead killer vaulted up onto the upper part of the fountain, splashed through the basin and dove for her. Alyssa scrambled out of the way, noting that despite the grin on his face their was something much more sinister in his actions now.

"May was only one of many, you know," he went on as he chased after her.

"But why did you kill her?" asked Alyssa, practically tripping as she ducked out of the way of his swinging hammer.

Her question was answered with another fit of maniacal laughter. "You're next," the killer announced with glee. He held his hammer high above his head a moment before he charged after her again.

Alyssa raced to the other side of the fountain again, her mind reeling. "But I thought you said you weren't going to kill me," she said desperately.

She had had her doubts about this promise from the start, but she wondered why he had suddenly changed his mind.

"He'll be mad," the killer declared, without a scrap of concern in his voice. "But I can't let you bring that to her. I'll tear you to pieces before I'll let you do a thing like that."

_He doesn't want me to give May the watch_, Alyssa realized.

She didn't understand why, but it was so important to him that May didn't see it he was willing to go against his orders and kill her to prevent it. Alyssa backed away and looked around desperately, but she knew there was no place left to run. She had to stand and fight, but with what?

Her hand reached down and gripped the bottle hanging from her belt, but she didn't pull it out. Flinging water would only slow him down. The time had come for her to end his killing spree once and for all.

As soon as the thought entered her head, the massive killer paused his approach. Alyssa couldn't imagine what he was hesitating about, and followed his gaze to where it was now pointing at her feet.

On the ground was a circle of light that was slowly tracing the spot where she stood. The light was both faint and clear, and it was drawing a line filled with strange, arcane symbols within it. As each symbol appeared, Alyssa felt her body grow warm and relaxed, and her hand seemed to raise up on its own.

In her hand was the glass bottle, only it wasn't a bottle anymore. As the light finished its work and faded as quickly as it had appeared, the bottle grew and changed in shape, until it had become thin and curved.

Alyssa was now holding a bow that looked like hand blown glass, and though it looked delicate it felt stronger than iron as she gripped it with her fingers.

Her other hand raised up and fell into place where the bowstring and arrow would be, though there appeared to be nothing more than air between her fingertips. But as she held them there, she felt something draw out of herself, and a volley of light shot into the sky.

Alyssa watched, enchanted, as the arrow of light streaked through the air like a star and faded from sight. Like so many things she had done this night, she had no idea how she was wielding this power, but she had stopped asking questions.

When the light faded, so did the mesmerizing affects the spell seemed to have on her attacker, and he advanced on her again with a furious roar.

Alyssa turned and ran, putting what she hoped was enough distance between them before she turned and unleashed another arrow born from her own energy.

The small point of light merely grazed his shoulder, but the affect on him was worse than the water had ever been. He howled with pain and clutched the wound for a moment before he charged at her with more hate and resolve than ever. Alyssa took to her heels again before she fired another shot.

She hadn't time to move very far, and it was difficult to aim when he was running at her so hard and fast. She kept nicking him, or missing him altogether. As the battle went on, however, she began to notice that the longer she called up the hidden wellspring of power she possessed, the larger and brighter the arrow of light became.

Exhilarated, Alyssa dove behind one of the courtyard trees and rolled into a crouch. From there she held the bow at the ready as she waited patiently for her mark to draw closer, even though the longer she waited the more danger she put herself in.

But her attacker never seemed to learn his lesson, and charged at her with ever increasing force with each shot she fired. He came barreling around the tree, hammer hoisted above his head and teeth clenched. Alyssa waited until a moment before the hammer came crashing down upon her head before unleashing a pulsing arrow of light squarely at his chest.

Her quarry recoiled again, his unholy flesh steaming and melting as it weakened helplessly against her assault. With her head held high, Alyssa ran to the concert hall steps before she turned again.

The killer was weak, his movements had grown sluggish, and Alyssa knew it was the final shot as she readied another arrow.

It flew across the courtyard with a radiant glow, and when it hit its mark her undead enemy fell to his knees and let out a final cry that would have had a grown man cowering in fear.

But Alyssa only felt joy and relief; it was finally over.

The killer's body dissolved like smoke and dissipated into the night sky. Alyssa slowly came down from the stairs, a sense of wonder at what she had just done welling up inside her. She looked down at where her enemy had once stood; there was only a puff of ash left, and the gentle winter breeze was slowly spiriting it away.

When she heard a soft rustle, Alyssa frowned and quickly bent to snatch it up. It wasn't ash at all, but a dirty scrap of newspaper that was crumpled into a tiny ball. Alyssa tried to untangle the mess carefully, but she tore it a little as she spread it open again.

There was no visible date, so she had no idea when the message she read had first been printed. She knew why the killer had kept it, though. He wanted to keep it from May.

'William Norton, a soldier positioned in France, was among the dozens who were killed during an attack on...'

The page was badly torn, and the rest of the message had been lost. Alyssa slipped the small scrap into her pocket next to the watch, her heart growing heavy. But there was a bright side to it, she realized. Once May was free, she and her father would be together again.

She was about to hurry inside when she spied something glittering on the ground at her feet, right next to where the newspaper had been.

Alyssa felt more puzzled than ever as she picked up the object she found lying on the stone path. It was silver and shaped like a heart, and there was a tiny emerald sparkling on one side. "What on earth was that _thing_ doing with this?"

Just another question she had no answer for. But the theories that came to mind as to why an undead murderer would be carrying a piece of her mother's pendant were far from pleasant.

Wanting to get home again worse than ever, Alyssa placed the fragment of jewelry into her pocket and hurried back into the concert hall.

When she reached the auditorium, she found May sitting on the piano bench again. She paused her playing and sobbed as Alyssa quietly mounted the stairs. The older girl's heart was full of compassion as she approached, the pocket watch cupped in her hands.

May didn't look up from her endless playing as Alyssa drew near. Knowing that nothing except finishing her piece would make her stop, she opened the watch and gently set it on top of the piano. The music box tune filled the room, so much softer than the frantic playing May's desperation had caused her to play.

May's fingers halted, though not at the point they usually did. Her eyes slowly left the keys and rested on the watch. Alyssa quietly placed the newspaper article beside it.

"I'm sorry, May," she said softly. "Your father died on the battlefield. There was a..."

She trailed off as May hid her bloody face in her hands, her eyes full of tears for a different reason. Alyssa quickly stepped behind her and gently placed her hands on the smaller girl's shoulders, trying to comfort her.

"I never even knew my father," she said sadly, "but I know just how you feel. I know how painful it is to be separated from someone who means so much to you. But do you know," she hurried on as May began to sniffle, "you can still play for him. He can hear you where he is now, and if you finish your song for him, I'm sure it'll make him happy. You'll play for him, won't you?"

Though she didn't say a word, May slowly dried her eyes and nodded. Alyssa let go and stepped back, and May put her fingers to the keys. And then she began playing in perfect harmony with the gentle tune of the watch, with no evidence she had ever made a mistake in the precious song.

Alyssa took another step back and clasped her hands as happiness and contentment swept over her; though her visage was still one of death, a look of peace had crept into May's stained features. Alyssa knew she would be all right now.

"May!"

Startled, Alyssa spun around and saw a young man standing on the stage with them. He had the sunniest of smiles on his face, and his arms were reaching out towards May.

"Daddy!"

May got up from the bench and ran to her father, though she looked nothing like the little girl who had been sitting there a moment ago. She looked like the girl from the photo, so full of life and color. She ran to her father's arms and was quickly locked in his embrace.

"I've been searching for you all this time," said William. Alyssa knew his voice must have been sad until now, but there was no longer room for anything but joy for either of them. "I kept searching, but it wasn't until I heard your beautiful playing was I able to find you. You helped draw me out of the darkness and straight to you, my darling."

There was no trace of tears on May's face as she clung to her father. "It was all I ever wanted," she laughed. "I wanted to play for you so you would be proud of me."

Her father laughed in turn, and held her even closer. "I am, May. I am."

William then lifted his head, his eyes meeting Alyssa's. May let go and smiled at her. "I can't thank you enough for helping me get my daughter back," said William. "We'll never forget your kindness."

They were waving at her, and they seemed to be stepping back from her, though their legs weren't moving. Alyssa could see the red curtain through their bodies.

"Goodbye," she called quickly.

The pair continued to wave until they had faded from sight. Though they were gone, Alyssa thought she could hear their laughter lingering in the air.

Alyssa was happy, but she was also tired. Very tired; her body suddenly felt like it was made of lead. She tried to turn away from the now empty stage, but her legs buckled beneath her. She felt herself falling, and her awareness of the world faded into darkness.


	9. Chapter 9: Friends, Old and New

**Chapter 9: Friends, Old and New**

Alyssa came back to the world slowly. She gradually became aware of a softness beneath her back and head, and her surroundings felt wonderfully warm compared to the winter chill she had been exposed to all night. Hoping that she was awake and not lost in a dream, she opened her eyes.

She was lying on her own bed in the safety of her own room. The curtains were all closed, making the room dim, but there was no mistaking it. She was back home again, back in the year 2003.

Sighing in relief, Alyssa slowly sat up, her eyes still drinking in the welcome sight of her own bedroom. As she lowered her legs to the floor, she looked down in surprise as something cool and hard brushed against the side of her thigh.

The blue bottle was tucked under her belt again. There was no sign of the mysterious bow, which she was starting to doubt ever even existed. She was starting to have doubts about everything she just experienced.

"Was all that just a dream?" she murmured aloud.

"Was all what just a dream?" a voice beside her questioned.

Alyssa yelped and nearly fell off the bed in surprise. Blue eyes watched her as she scooted back, and a familiar laugh passed softly between smooth white teeth. "Sorry. I seem to be making a habit of frightening you, aren't I?"

Alyssa stared, her heart pounding. "Edward? What in the world are you doing?"

Why was he in her room? And sitting on the corner of her bed, no less.

Instead of answering, the slender boy ran a hand through his pale hair and stood. "You look upset, so I'll leave you in peace."

After what she had just been through, finding a boy in her room was a shock she could recover from quickly, and Alyssa reached out and seized his hand. "Oh no you don't," she said firmly. "You're not going anywhere until you explain yourself."

"If you insist," said Edward, and sat down beside her with another smile. He didn't seem at all bothered by her demands. In fact, she was pretty sure he looked pleased she had asked him to stay. Alyssa let go of his hand and briefly glanced away, but there was a warmth in his smile that was making her feel relaxed and comfortable. She hadn't really noticed before, but he had one of the nicest smiles she had ever seen.

"I went upstairs a little while ago," Edward explained, "and I found you passed out on the floor of your mother's bedroom. I was thinking about trying to call a doctor, but you woke up shortly after I carried you in here."

"Oh..."

Alyssa felt a little foolish, getting upset like that when he had actually been helping her. She felt touched by his thoughtfulness, but at the same time the idea that he had carried her all the way to her bedroom made her heart give a little flutter, just like it had when she first met him on the stairs.

"Thank you for your trouble," she said softly, glancing down at her hands. "But I can't really explain why I fainted like that."

The memory of falling to the stage after saying goodbye to May and William was fresh in her mind, but she was beginning to wonder if all that hadn't just been a nightmare induced by the stress of coming all this way only for her mother to be nowhere around, and running into that strange man in the dining room...

"You were probably just feeling overwhelmed from your trip," Edward told her, his voice soft and full of kindness.

Alyssa nodded wordlessly. She felt kind of funny inside, knowing he could understand what she was thinking and feeling so easily. It felt strange to have someone who wasn't her mother trying to comfort her, but she kind of liked it, too. She was glad she had found a friend.

"I'm glad it wasn't anything serious," Edward went on. "I doubt I could have reached a doctor by anything other than on foot; the phones don't seem to be working for some reason."

Alyssa nodded again—and then something he said earlier finally sunk in completely. She looked up at him with a slight frown. "What were you doing in my mother's room?"

It was Edward's turn to glance away. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I was looking for you, actually," he confessed, meeting her gaze again. Even though the room was dim, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at her, like twin jewels. _Blue topaz_, thought Alyssa.

She quickly turned away as warmth flooded her cheeks; what in the world was she thinking?

"No one else seems to be around," Edward was saying, "and...truth be told, I was growing a little lonely."

"It's all right," said Alyssa hastily. "Although..."

She got up and drifted over to the TV set, remembering how it had only shown static earlier. And now, according to Edward, the phones weren't working, either. "Do you know where they went? The others, I mean."

Alyssa turned away from the set to see Edward shaking his head. "They were around this morning, but then they all just seemed to disappear. About the time your mother left, now that I think about it."

Nodding absently, Alyssa rubbed her hands together as she thought. The house was as strangely silent as it had been before, and there was the same feeling of unease in the air. It gave her the chills.

"I'm glad you're here, at least," added Edward, making her smile in spite of herself.

"So am I."

She went and sat down beside him again. When she was close to someone else, the uneasy feeling didn't seem to hover quite so near.

"What was your dream about?" Edward suddenly asked.

"Oh, it isn't important," Alyssa said quickly.

Remembering the leering face that had been chasing her through the dark London streets made her shiver, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to talk about it.

"It might make you feel better if you tell me," said Edward gently. "Putting nightmares into words can help chase them away, instead of keeping them locked up in your head where they seem so real. That's what your mother told me, anyway."

An image of her mother comforting Edward after waking from a bad dream popped into Alyssa's mind. It made her feel a little jealous, knowing that he had grown so close to her mother in her absence, but at the same time his words made the gentle woman seem close by. She was a little worried about how it would sound to him, but she settled down and began to tell her tale, starting with what had happened in her mother's bedroom.

By the time she was finished, she was pacing the rug in the middle of the room. Edward watched her from his seat on the corner of her bed, his expression solemn. "At the time it felt so real I was convinced it was really happening, but now..."

Alyssa trailed off with a shrug, unconsciously fiddling with the bottle still hanging from her belt. Edward suddenly reached out and took her hand. "I believe you," he declared, his pale eyes bright as he looked up at her. "In my short lifetime, I've seen and heard things that can't be explained. There are many things out there that go beyond the realm of the normal—a lot more things than most people believe. And I think..."

Edward gave Alyssa's had a small tug, bringing her slightly closer to him. "I think all those strange things exist and happen for a reason, especially when they happen around one particular person. And I think you're just that sort of person."

"I'm...not sure what you mean," Alyssa faltered.

"I mean that you're very special, Alyssa," Edward told her, smiling. "And I don't think what you saw was just a dream. I think something pulled you across time and space because you needed to be there."

"But..."

Alyssa gently pulled her hand away and turned to face her dresser, unable to look directly into Edward's earnest face anymore. He looked so certain, and sounded so sincere she almost believed what he was telling her.

But it wasn't possible. People didn't just travel through time. And she wasn't anyone special. She was just Alyssa Hamilton, age fourteen—nothing more, nothing else.

"Don't you think it's a little unusual that all this is happening on the very day you decided to come home?" Edward suddenly asked.

Alyssa didn't answer. She _did_ think was all a little too much to just be coincidence, but...

A loud banging noise made her jump in surprise. She whirled around and looked at Edward, who was still sitting on the bed. He looked just as surprised as she felt, and he was staring at the window behind her. Her heart thumping nervously, Alyssa went slowly over and pushed the drapes aside.

Her nerves vanished and were replaced with relief, annoyance, and a flood of childhood memories.

Pressed against the glass was a face framed with rust-colored hair, and an arm clothed in a striped sweater was raised to bang again. A grin spread across the boyish face as Alyssa reached to unlatch the window, and the young girl looked down at the figure lying on his belly on the brief section of roof outside her bedroom with sternness.

"Dennis Owen, what in the world do you think you're doing?"

He had grown quite a bit from the scrawny lad she remembered, but there was no mistaking the boy who had lived in the house behind her's for as long as she could remember. Obviously, he hadn't shed his penchant for getting into trouble during her three year absence.

"I'll be decorating the lawn with my insides, if you don't give me a hand," grunted Dennis as he grappled for the window ledge.

Shaking her head, Alyssa grabbed onto his wrist and started to tug. After a noisy scraping of shoes against shingles, the teen boy came tumbling to her bedroom floor.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Alyssa as Dennis picked himself up again. "We have a front door, you know."

"I tried that," said Dennis indignantly. "No one answered, so I came up here."

"But how did you even know I was home? I didn't call in advance that I was coming or something."

Instead of answering, Dennis grinned at her as he looked her up and down. "Is that all you have to say after all this time? Don't tell me you've forgotten all the fun we used to have together."

Alyssa hadn't forgotten. Growing up, any time not spent with her family had been spent with Dennis. They had done everything together, from playing hide and seek, to bug hunting in the field, to attending school together. He was quite a bit taller than the little boy she remembered, but he really hadn't changed much otherwise.

"No, I haven't forgotten," said Alyssa, smiling in spite of herself. "But I doubt you came up here just to reminisce."

Dennis continued to grin as he rocked back on forth on his heels, hands behind his back. "You're right, as usual. I have something for you—a coming home present, I guess you could say."

Alyssa was bursting with curiosity now, but she knew better than to show it; Dennis was an awful tease when he knew something got her excited. "What kind of present?" she asked slowly. "And who told you I was coming home, anyway?"

Dennis' bright green eyes scanned her room, and she could tell by the impish look on his face that he was purposely trying to keep her in suspense. "Well, it just so happens that..."

His voice, as well as his cheery expression, faded away in a hurry when he noticed for the first time that someone else was in the room.

During the time that Alyssa had been helping Dennis through the window, Edward had left the bed and was standing next to Alyssa's armchair. He wasn't leaning against it, but standing straight and tall as he surveyed Dennis with a hint of disdain in his blue eyes. For the first time since Alyssa had met him, his warm smile was nowhere to be seen.

Dennis spoke first. "Who's this? What's he doing in your room?"

There was a touch of accusation in his voice, and Alyssa felt flustered as she hurried to answer. "This is..."

"Edward," the slender boy supplied, his tone low and cool. "I live here."

Hands on his hips, Dennis took a step closer, as if he were trying to scrutinize the other boy like the fine print of a book. Although he wasn't as tall or as husky as Dennis, Edward seemed to make a more imposing figure than he did.

"A pleasure to meet you," Dennis finally said, in the most insincere of fashions.

"Likewise," replied Edward, his icy tone equally insincere.

The two continued to glare at each other, green eyes boring into blue, before Dennis abruptly turned away. When he looked at Alyssa again, his boyish grin was back in place, as if it had never left.

Feeling bewildered, Alyssa wanted to demand exactly what was wrong with the two of them, but she held her tongue. She hadn't been around any in three years, but she remembered clearly that boys had weird, unexplainable quirks, especially around each other.

"Like I said, I have something for you," Dennis declared cheerfully, picking up where he left off.

As he spoke, he pulled something from his pants pocket and held it out to her. Alyssa stared, shocked, before snatching the object up.

"The key to my grandfather's study! How did you get this?"

Alyssa practically lunged at him, ready to pin him down like she did when they were small until he talked. Dennis dodged and retreated with a laugh. "Easy, killer. Your mother gave it to me this morning before she took off in her car. She said I should give it to you right away, if you happened to show up."

This new information made Alyssa run to the open window excitedly, her eyes automatically drawn in the direction of the road. "So she _did_ know I would be coming back today," she exclaimed. "She must have thought I would come home first thing, instead of waiting until later," she added, mostly to herself.

Her moment of excitement faded as she closed the window again; if she hadn't waited all day to read the letter, she might not have missed her.

But now wasn't the time to stop to feel sorry for herself, and a fresh burst of energy rushed through her as she hurried for the door.

"Wait, where are you running off to?" Dennis called after her.

"To my grandfather's study, of course," she replied as she opened the door.

Her mother wouldn't have left the key unless there was something in the study she wanted her daughter to see. There was something of great importance in there, Alyssa was sure of it.

"This is personal," she added as she stepped into the hall. She was about to run down the stairs when she remembered the other person in the room. She quickly turned around again to thank Edward for talking to her, but she only saw Dennis, still standing beside the window and looking puzzled. The young blonde had gone.


	10. Chapter 10: Pieces of the Puzzle

**Chapter 10: Pieces of the Puzzle  
**

Alyssa felt both excited and nervous as she returned to the downstairs hallway. She hadn't been inside her grandfather's study in over three years, but she still remembered it clearly.

Bookcases lined nearly every wall, with colorful paintings hanging on the brief spaces in between them. The bookshelves were impossibly crammed with books of all shapes, colors, and sizes, and more were piled on the tables and her grandfather's desk. It felt more like a library than a study—a library she once spent a great deal of time in as she lost herself to tales of far off places and wild adventures.

The memories that filled Alyssa's mind as she unlocked the study door saddened her; that innocent time seemed so far away now.

Beyond the threshold, the large study was just as she remembered. The wallpaper was white with brown and purple stripes, and much like most other rooms in the house, the wooden floor was brightened by an ornate rug. To her left was a rocking chair and a small table, and to her right were two leather chairs, colored purple. Her grandfather's portrait hanging on the wall behind them; Alyssa went over and gazed at it wistfully.

As much as she missed her mother, Alyssa was beginning to long for the comfort only her grandfather could give. Dick Hamilton, old and wise, would know how to help his granddaughter, even through something as bizarre as today.

If there was any knowledge to be found in the wizened eyes looking back at her from the portrait, Alyssa couldn't see it, and she turned away with a small sigh.

The desk in front of the large window at the far end of the room was cluttered with papers and books, but despite the mess, there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. Her mother had frequented this place, too, keeping it clean until its owner returned.

Alyssa went around the desk and sat in the old swivel chair, her eyes scanning the stacks of papers and books, searching for whatever it was her mother wanted her to find. One particular book stood out from the others; it was worn and cracking, and looked so old Alyssa was half-afraid to touch it, but someone had deliberately set it in the center of the desk where it was the most likely to be seen. A colorful bookmark was peeking out between the pages, and when she carefully opened the book to that place, the words 'Entity' and 'Rooder' jumped out at her from the center of the page.

'The Entities,' the paragraph below the boldfaced header read, 'are a form of evil spirit that have plagued our world since the time of the Roman Empire. This evil is characterized by an Entity's attraction to a person or persons who are pure in heart but weak-willed and easily manipulated, traits that make it possible for an Entity to possess its target with little resistance.

'Once an Entity is joined with its human host, the person will begin exhibiting violent behavior and uncontrollable rages, and will usually go so far as to kill within days of possession. Though some act more discreetly than others, those who are possessed will continue their acts of violence without cessation until the host body has been killed.

'Unfortunately, slaying the human body won't stop the Entity; the evil will simply revive the host after death, which creates a remorseless, undead monster known as a Subordinate. Once created, a Subordinate will immediately begin killing again, feeding off the energy of each of its victims. A Subordinate is capable of growing immeasurably powerful in this manner.

'However, a newly created Subordinate, though much stronger than a normal human, will remain in a weakened state until they have garnered enough strength from enough victims. During this period, a Subordinate's own energy will fade from time to time, forcing it to return to the place where it all began; specifically, its first victim. All who die at the hands of a Subordinate are cursed to wander the earth until they are freed from the spell and able to pass on, but a Subordinate's first kill suffers by far the most. When the Subordinate's energy begins to ebb, it has the power to travel back through time and force its victim to relive his or her death, thus reenergizing the Subordinate all over again.

'Once the Subordinate progresses past this stage and is no longer hindered by this weakness, the unfortunate spirit will be free from its personal hell, but it will not be able to leave this world completely until the Subordinate is defeated.

'Though many have battled Subordinates, there is only one group of people who have the power to destroy them completely; the Rooders. These warriors, who have been battling Entities and their Subordinates for many centuries, are always female and in their early teens. Undoubtedly, the war between them will continue for centuries to come.'

Alyssa reread the last paragraph again before slowly lifting her eyes from the page. Resting the book in her lap, she leaned back in the rickety chair and stared blankly at the spotless ceiling. "Entities," she repeated out loud. "Was that what I saw?"

"There you are," a voice exclaimed loudly, making her sit up with a startled gasp.

Dennis came trotting into the room, looking winded. "I've been looking all over for you," he said, panting a little. "I forgot how huge this place is. A guy could get lost if he's not careful."

For a moment she felt annoyed, having her thoughts interrupted like that, but then Alyssa found herself standing up and bringing the book over to him. She felt the need to share what she had found, even if it was with Dennis, who probably wouldn't understand a word of it.

"What do you make of this?" she asked, holding the portion she had just read out to him.

Dennis squinted at the page, his hand absently tousling his own shaggy hair as he read the strange passage.

"What's an Entity?" he asked, confused.

"I'm not really sure," Alyssa sighed. She turned and walked back to the desk, still staring at the words as she set the book down. "Only..."

_Only I know now that it wasn't just a dream._

"Is there something going on?" asked Dennis, interrupting her thoughts again.

Instead of answering, Alyssa turned to him with her hands on her hips. "Just what are you still doing here, anyway? I don't remember saying you could stick around."

"You didn't tell me to go, either," said Dennis, grinning impishly at her.

"Well, I am now. I need to find my mother."

Alyssa started to step around him, but Dennis quickly hopped in her path, blocking the doorway. "But your mother's off somewhere in her car," he objected, frowning. "I saw her drive off this morning."

"I know, but..."

Alyssa turned away, her hands clasped over her heart. "I can't explain how I know, but she's somewhere nearby. She's waiting for me to find her."

"Well, let's look for her together, then," Dennis offered. "It's not like I have anything to do at home, now that Linda's gone."

Alyssa nodded absently, understanding. Linda was Dennis' older sister, and a nurse who often went abroad to do relief work. "Where is she now?"

Dennis shuffled his foot across the rug as he replied, looking glum. "Somewhere in Africa. She's not due back for another six months."

He quickly turned around again, smiling despite the sadness in his eyes. "So, that means I'm available for any errand you might need—including searching for missing mothers."

Alyssa couldn't help smiling at his eagerness. She really didn't feel she needed any help, but she didn't have the heart to send him away. He was trying hard to look cheerful, but she could tell he was lonely with his only family member so far away. A loneliness she herself knew all too well.

"Okay," she agreed. "You go search upstairs while I finish checking around here."

Dennis nodded and started for the door, then turned around with another grin. Alyssa eyed him warily, wondering what he was up to now.

"You know," the rust-haired teen began slowly, "there's a special day coming up soon, isn't there?"

"Special?" Alyssa repeated, feeling puzzled.

"Of course its special," exclaimed Dennis. "It's your birthday, after all. You turn fifteen tomorrow, don't you?"

Alyssa glanced sheepishly at her shoes; she had completely forgotten. Dennis grinned and puffed out his chest, looking pleased with himself. "See? Even after all this time, I still remembered."

"Next you'll be telling me you've gotten me a present," said Alyssa slyly.

Dennis shrugged, undaunted. "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

Alyssa shook her head, amused. "Right. Now get upstairs, Mr. Helpful."

Saluting, Dennis hurried out of the study. Alone again, Alyssa turned her attention back to her grandfather's desk.

Aside from the mysterious book about Entities, there didn't seem to be anything important. Sitting down on the chair again, Alyssa began checking the drawers, but she didn't find anything until she tried the top drawer on the right side of the desk.

Unlike the rest of the drawers, it was locked tight. Frowning, Alyssa began sifting through the books and papers again, searching for any sign of a key.

Instead, she uncovered a small slip of paper written in red ink. The short message looked hastily scrawled, but the handwriting was unmistakably her mother's.

'The keys to unlock time are behind him.'

Alyssa made a face at the cryptic message. _Great_, she thought. _Another_ _mystery_.

She looked up from the desk and slowly scanned the room, wondering what sort of keys she was supposed to find, or who the 'him' they were hiding behind was.

To her right was a narrow space of wall decorated with a variety of old masks. Alyssa had never taken a close look at them before; they had been rather frightening to her as a child. Now they just seemed like harmless bits of wood and paper, and she got up to take a closer look.

She had no idea how old they were, or where any of them had come from, but she wasn't really concerned with their history. What caught her attention was the blank space in the middle of the wall, particularly the empty hook that was hanging amidst the rows of masks. Alyssa gave it a curious tug and was surprised when it jiggled up and down, like a switch.

Alyssa tugged it again and could swear she heard some kind of clunking sound deep within the wall. Pressing her ear against the paper, she wiggled the hook around again; yes, there was definitely something moving around in there. She experimentally moved the hook into different positions, but it didn't have any visible affects. Disappointed, she gave up and continued her search.

She checked along the underside of the table and chairs and peeked inside various books, but she didn't find anything that looked like a key. Growing frustrated, she went over and gazed up at her grandfather's portrait again. She gazed at the kind eyes again, the warm smile—and then it hit her.

"You're the only him I see in here," Alyssa murmured as she gripped the side of the picture frame.

She carefully lifted the frame away from the wall and slid her hand along behind it. After feeling blindly for a moment, her fingers slid into what felt like a square hole cut out of the wall. Her hand closed around something cold and hard, and she quickly cupped the object in her palm and pulled it out where she could see it.

It wasn't one object, but two, one colored silver and the other gold. They were both shaped like keys, but instead of being covered in teeth, their ends were short, flat and stubby. Alyssa studied them in puzzlement for several moments before realizing that they were winding keys, the kind used to wind a clock.

She glanced around, but there wasn't a clock of any kind in the study, so she pocketed the keys and, after taking one last look around, went back out into the hallway. As she started for the entryway again, she tried to remember all the different clocks that were sitting around the house, but something caught her eye that made her pause.

The door at the other end of the hall, which had been closed earlier, was open a crack. She didn't think much of it, since Dennis had probably opened every door on the ground floor while he was looking for her, but instead of going over and closing it tight again, curiosity made her peek through the crack at the next hall.

Throughout her childhood, there were parts of the house she rarely saw. They were used by the lodgers, and she was often told that, even though they lived in the same house, she wasn't to bother them or their private space. But no one was around now, and the blanket of silence in the air hung particularly heavy as she stepped through the doorway and started down the dim, narrow hall.

The walls were covered in cream paper, with oak paneling near the floor. There were small pictures hanging here and there, most of them with round or oval frames. Alyssa wasn't sure if any of them were new or if they had all been around since her mother first started taking boarders; her memories of this portion of the house were fuzzy at best.

Aside from the pictures, there were small tables with vases filled with dried flowers and plants, all evenly spaced between the rows of doors. Each closed door led into a lodger's room, and while she was curious to explore further, Alyssa knew she had more important things to do and started back the way she came.

As she neared the front of the hall again, she noticed that a door to her left was open. It was only by a hair, so small she hadn't noticed it before, but from this angle she could see that a small light was shining inside the room. Knowing that Dennis wouldn't have gone so far as to light a lamp, Alyssa pushed the door open and peered inside.

The light source came from a small lamp sitting on a bedside table. Lying next to the lamp was a pile of newspaper clippings. As she continued to scan the room, Alyssa realized that there were also clippings on the bedspread, and more were scattered across the gray carpet. It looked like someone had gone through them all recently, but it was impossible to tell exactly how long ago someone had dumped them around and left the lamp still burning.

Remembering her manners—not to mention her search for the clock the winding keys went to—Alyssa was about to close the door and continue on, but then a headline from a clipping that was lying about a foot from the doorway made her pause.

'Body of Missing Girl Finally Found'.

The words gave Alyssa a little chill, but found herself kneeling down and reading further, strangely compelled to learn who the girl was and what had happened to her.

'The search for Jennifer Simpson, age 15, has come to an end. Her body was found beneath the rubble of Barrows Castle, which most likely collapsed during an earthquake. The ancient structure, considered by many across England to be a treasured relic from a bygone era, was deemed unsafe several years ago and hadn't seen any visitors since. Simpson was part of a group from Norway, though it is unclear why they entered Barrows Castle despite the danger. While some of the bodies have still not been found, the authorities have deemed the case a tragic accident. No further investigation is planned.'

The article was dated late 1997. As she set the clipping back where she found it, Alyssa noticed that most of the articles scattered next to the bed were also from that year, with a few from the year before. As her eyes scanned the papers, the bold-faced headings seemed to stand out sharply in the soft light. Her search faded from her mind and was forgotten as she continued to read, and she noticed that the dates marked on the clippings were close together, as if the person who had collected them had tracked the articles across a year's time with great care. She also noticed that the further back she read, the stranger the headlines became.

'Bizarre String of Murders Still Unsolved...Local University Takes On Elaborate Psychological Study...Brutal Killings Continue, Authorities Fear that 'Scissorman' Has Returned...'

Alyssa read article after article, each more disturbing than the last. Nearly all of them had a mention of a mysterious wave of murders that had rocked a small town in Norway, and she didn't see a single one that didn't include a mention of the girl from the first article, Jennifer Simpson.

As she continued to sift through the pile, Alyssa came across another article about her, only this one included a picture. It was printed in black and white, but it clearly showed a girl around Alyssa's age, with light skin and long black hair. She wasn't looking directly at the camera, and something in her downcast eyes made her seem pensive. Despite the lack of a smile, she was obviously very pretty.

Beneath the picture was a caption that read, 'Lone Survivor of Scissorman Murder Case'. The article on the clipping was brief and mentioned that Jennifer was the only survivor of a group of orphans who had apparently been lured to Barrows Mansion in Romsdaaren, Norway, under the guise of being adopted. The article also mentioned that a young boy had also escaped the brutal killings, and had been taken in by Granite Orphanage. The date written on the upper hand corner indicated that the article had been printed late 1996.

Alyssa set the scrap of paper down with a shiver. She didn't bother to look at the clippings that littered the bed; she was pretty sure they were more of the same, and she didn't want to read about unsolved murder cases anymore. She had her own mystery to solve, and she silently scolded herself for wasting time, and for snooping in someone else's room.

As she stood up and stretched her stiff legs, she heard a footstep in the hall, followed by the creak of the door behind her opening wider. Thinking it was Dennis, Alyssa turned around to ask him if he had found anything.

Only it wasn't Dennis. It was Edward, and he was looking at her with a stern frown.

"What are you doing in my room?"


	11. Chapter 11: The History of Evil

**Chapter 11: The History of Evil**

The frown on Edward's face suddenly morphed into a smile, bringing a light to his eyes that was brighter than the soft glow of the nearby lamp. "Weren't you the one asking me that very thing a little while ago?"

Not sure how to reply, Alyssa nervously fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. He didn't look mad, but she _had_ been nosing around his personal space without permission, so he had to be at least a little annoyed. She wracked her brain for an acceptable explanation for her behavior, but she couldn't come up with one. She had been poking around simply because she let her curiosity get the better of her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized hastily. "I was trying to find something that I..."

Alyssa trailed off. She really wasn't sure what she was looking for. After all, just what good would winding a clock do, anyway?

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I shouldn't have entered this wing of the house uninvited, even if it seems like everyone is gone."

"Oh, don't be silly," said Edward, brushing the issue aside. He stepped past her, shoved the pile of newspaper clippings out of the way and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's your house, not mine. You should be free to explore it all you like, no matter how long you've been away. Just ask me next time you want to admire my boudoir, okay?" he added with a wink.

"Okay," Alyssa agreed, with a small laugh.

Edward smiled at her a moment longer, before his eyes dropped to a spot near her feet. His expression grew somber as he reached down and picked something up off the carpet.

Alyssa recognized it as the last clipping she had read, the one with Jennifer's picture on it. The slender boy studied the image silently, his gentle eyes full of soft affection as they gazed at the girl's face.

After hesitating for several moments, Alyssa quietly voiced the question that had formed in her mind while she was reading the articles. "Did you know her?"

Edward nodded slightly, without taking his eyes off the scrap of paper. "We used to be very close. I miss her terribly sometimes."

Alyssa nodded and continued to fidget, feeling awkward. She had a pretty good idea what he meant when he said 'close'.

"What exactly were the..." She nudged a clipping with the toe of her shoe. "...'Scissorman' murders?"

Edward glanced at the mess at his feet before staring at the picture in his hands again. "Jennifer was an orphan, just like me. She and three other girls were taken to Barrows Mansion by a woman named Mary, where they would supposedly be adopted by a man named Simon Barrows. Only it was all a lie; they were lured there to die."

"So I read," said Alyssa, not sure she wanted him to continue, for his sake. For her own, too; she had had enough scary stories for one day.

But there was no sadness in Edward's blue eyes. Only fondness—and a hint of regret. "Simon Barrows had gone mad ages ago, and Mary, who was the true master of the house, kept him locked up like an animal. Deep within the catacombs beneath the mansion Mary ran some kind of demonic cult, and she and her followers preformed all sorts of horrific rituals, including human sacrifice."

The very idea made Alyssa shudder. "Was that what happened to the other girls?" she asked quietly, though she wasn't sure she wanted to have that question answered.

Edward shook his head. His eyes were still on the newspaper clipping, but his gaze had turned vacant and unseeing. "One of the girls ended up being a sacrifice, but the other two fell victim to Scissorman. No one really knows who or what he was, but after she was rescued Jennifer insisted he was the son of Mary and Simon, though no evidence was ever found to support this. The only things ever found were the rubber mask he wore and the giant scissors he carried."

Alyssa shuddered again. She could easily picture Jennifer running through the dark corridors of a creepy old mansion, a hulking killer lurking in the shadows behind her...

"Scissorman reappeared a year later, even though Jennifer insisted she had killed him before she escaped the mansion. Rumor was the criminal psychologist studying the case went out of his mind and adopted the persona Jennifer had been describing for him. Others say it was his assistant, who had an unhealthy interest in Jennifer. No one really knows for sure, and no one really knows why everyone involved in the case came to Barrows Castle here in England, either. Whatever the reason, all of them died when it collapsed."

"But what about..."

Alyssa glanced down at her feet; an article next to her shoe talked about the continuing Scissorman murders. The date marked on the corner was several months after the accident at the castle.

"Jennifer was an amazing girl; I've no doubt in my mind that she killed him, just like she claimed," said Edward firmly. "The other Scissorman was just a copycat, and the murders that spread across Norway were probably done by copycats, too."

Alyssa made a face as a picture of a group of men carrying scissors the size of pruning sheers and wearing masks formed in her mind. "Did the murders ever stop?"

"Eventually."

"But they never figured out who was behind it all?"

Edward shook his head and set Jennifer's article on the nightstand. "No, and I don't believe they ever will. But it doesn't matter anymore. That was all such a long, long time ago."

Alyssa nodded slightly, remembering the dates. Nearly a decade had passed since Jennifer's death. And judging by his current appearance, Edward had probably been around ten at the time, which most likely meant that the older girl had played a sisterly role in his life. Alyssa felt silly when she realized this and wondered why she had jumped to her previous conclusion.

Edward suddenly patted the bed beside him. "You remind me of her a lot," he said as Alyssa sat down. "She was strong and brave, just like you are."

"I'm not all that brave," murmured Alyssa, remembering the terror she felt as she ran from the hammer-wielding killer.

"But you saved that little girl," Edward insisted. "Being brave isn't the same as being fearless, you know. To be brave is to feel fear only to do what needs to be done anyway."

"I suppose..."

"It's true," said Edward, suddenly taking her hand. "A lesser person would have curled up on the floor in a little paralyzed ball. You worked to find a way out of the situation you were in, even though something truly horrible was after you at every turn."

Alyssa grew quiet. Edward still sounded like he was convinced that her dream had really happened, but she was beginning to have her doubts again. Who was to say what she had read in the book about Entities was really true?

But despite her uncertainty, she found herself telling Edward all about it, and about the winding keys, too.

"There's that big clock in the dining room," he said promptly.

"I know, but what good will winding it up do? And what exactly is a 'Rooder', anyway?"

"I've no idea," said Edward with a sad smile. "It seems to me like you've got one heck of a mystery on your hands. I wish I could help you solve it, but I have a feeling this journey is for you and you alone."

Alyssa let out a heavy sigh and said nothing. All the unanswerable questions were getting her a little discouraged. She was starting to feel like her perception of her own life—not to mention reality—had all been an illusion.

"Well, I didn't get any answers sitting on my rear the last time, and I certainly won't get any by doing that now," she decided.

She had to keeping looking, no matter how strange things seemed. The answers had to be in the house..._somewhere_.

Alyssa got up from the bed, but she didn't head for the door; Edward was still clinging to her hand. "If you ever need anything," he told her, his voice soft and urgent, "come back any time you like, even if it's just to talk. I won't be going anywhere."

Alyssa nodded mutely, feeling keenly aware of his thumb as it brushed lightly across the backs of her knuckles. Something in his pale eyes confused her; he looked sincere enough, but there was something else lurking within those luminous blue orbs, something mixed with loneliness and longing.

Did he truly desire her friendship, or was he chasing after the memory of someone else?

She pulled her hand away. Edward watched her step carefully around the newspaper clippings that still coated the carpet as she made her way to the door. He sat up a little straighter as she took a step into the hall and for a moment she thought he was going to say something, but instead he just smiled at her. It was a small, simple gesture, but it helped calm her for some reason. Though parts of their conversation had left her confused, she felt a little better than she had a few minutes ago. It was encouraging to know that amidst the dark forces working against her, there was someone close by who was on her side.

Alyssa smiled briefly in return before closing the bedroom door and heading back to the entryway. Her hand absently slipped into her jacket pocket and fingered the twin winding keys as she tried to form a picture of all the grandfather clocks in the house. Aside from the one in the dining room she was pretty sure there weren't any more.

When she reached for the dining room door, she received a shock. Two memories, both of them vivid and clear, popped into her head; one of herself and Edward talking at the dining room table, and one of her mother keeping strict custody of the only set of master keys the house had. Her mother obviously wasn't around, so who in the world had locked the door?

Just another question with no answer, one that had her thumping her foot against the door in frustration. She briefly considered finding a way to take the door off its hinges, but that was a little extreme, and searching for the necessary tools would needlessly waste time. Turning away from the impassable barrier, Alyssa rubbed her temples and wracked her tired brain for another clock.

She had a vague memory of something ticking in her mother's room, but she couldn't picture the source of the sound. But the little voice, which had been quiet ever since she woke up, suddenly pointed out that all this had started in her mother's room, so that was a pretty good place to check again.

It was a logic she couldn't argue with, and she hadn't any ideas of her own, so Alyssa mounted the stairs again and returned to the hallway that led to her mother's bedroom.

The door stood open, and the sight made Alyssa's mind wander back to Edward's story of how he found her unconscious on the floor. She tried not to, but she started picturing him lifting her and carrying her all the way down the hall to her own room. She wondered if it had been difficult for him; it wasn't a short trip. He hadn't seemed at all tired when she awoke; those slender arms of his must be stronger than they appeared.

Alyssa closed the door again before turning and surveying her mother's bedroom, her eyes pouring over every inch of the large space. As her gaze passed over the bed, still bathed in sunlight from the nearby window, she saw something she hadn't noticed before.

It hardly seemed any later than it had been when she entered the room the first time. Her mind had been on other things when she peered out her own window a little while ago, so she hadn't noticed that the sun had barely moved from the spot it had been when she first came home.

She couldn't be sure how long it had really been, but her time in war-torn London had felt like hours. Whether it had been one hour or ten, it was still late afternoon here, and the odd feeling she had experienced in her room earlier came back with a vengeance. It was like the house had become completely disconnected with the rest of the world.

Feeling dizzy, Alyssa leaned against the desk. As her fingers curled around the smooth edge, her ears reminded her of what she was supposed to be doing; the rhythmic tick of a large clock was nearby.

Moving away from the desk, her eyes scanned the back of the room and soon found a tall, rust-colored shape tucked far in the corner. The grand old clock was almost lost in the shadows, so much so Alyssa didn't wonder why she had had trouble remembering it.

It was thinner than the clock downstairs, with smoother curves and rich detail. Tiny crystals sparkled on the slender pendulum as it slowly sliced back and forth, keeping perfect time. Alyssa thought the decorative piece was rather feminine, more of a Grandmother clock...if there was such a thing.

Fingering the keys in her pocket again, Alyssa started inspecting the back of the clock. When she found a large winding instrument already present, it finally occurred to her that the small keys she carried were for changing the position of the hands, not for winding the clock itself.

Frowning at this new puzzle, she studied the pair of holes beneath the clock's face as she wondered which time she was supposed to move the hands to. She frowned harder the more she thought about it; even if she figured it out, just what purpose would it serve?

_The clue wouldn't have been left if it weren't important,_ the voice said.

Sighing, Alyssa continued to study the clock face, and when the scattered celestial images circling the hands didn't offer any advice, her tired eyes wandered back to the room itself.

Nothing had changed from the last time she saw it, right before the piano music had frightened her. The picture she had knocked down was still lying next to the desk. Bits of broken glass glistened on the rug, and the book was still lying next to the bed, face down. Alyssa went over and absently nudged the silver letter opener with her toe as her eyes continued to wander.

As her gaze swept from one end of the room and back again, she kept returning to a spot on the wall opposite the bedroom door. Specifically, to the aged painting hanging above the small fireplace. It looked funny to Alyssa, mostly because she couldn't remember it being there before. Curious, she moved closer and studied the elegant maiden and her glossy pink gown.

There wasn't anything particularly unusual about it, but it still struck her as odd. Her mother had always favored paintings of landscapes, especially images of rolling green hills and rushing waterfalls—and those still took a back seat to family photos. A portrait of a brunette woman dressed in something that vaguely resembled a gown from late renaissance Italy didn't really run to her mother's tastes.

And then a small detail in the painting jumped out at her, something small and almost hidden in the shadows behind the smiling maiden; an image of a slender, stately clock.

Heart thumping with disbelief and excitement, Alyssa peered closer; the clock in the picture was almost identical to the one in the room. They were a little hard to see, but once she was able to pick out the thin, arrow-like hands from the dark background it was easy to tell they were pointing to exactly three o' clock.

Alyssa straightened and looked at the clock in the corner again. As closely as she had been staring at it a moment ago, she hadn't paid any attention to the time. With winding keys in hand, she hurried over and saw that it was almost exactly five after three—still startlingly early, considering all she had done.

"Easy enough," she said to herself, before setting the keys in place.

After a few seconds of fiddling, she soon discovered that each key didn't move one hand at a time, as she assumed they would, but both at once. Turning the left key moved the hands backwards by quite a large amount, and the right key moved them forwards, but only about half as far.

It wasn't long before her brief moment of feeling in tune with the flow of time again faded and was forgotten, and she began grumbling under her breath in annoyance as the hands moved further and further from their goal each time she turned them.

Finally, after many minutes had ticked by and she had lost all concept of what time it really was, she took a step back and tugged the keys out of place in frustration, with the intention of taking a break for a moment and then start over. To her surprise, the hands wound around on their own--until they returned to their original spot at five past three. Alyssa felt puzzled for a moment, but it quickly dawned on her that if the hands were allowed to move properly, they would set off whatever was supposed to happen when they reached the three o' clock hour. Shaking her head, Alyssa wondered just how long her mother had spent setting all this up as she returned the keys to the holes.

This time she paid close attention to just how many minutes went by each time she turned a key; forty minutes for every turn backwards, and twenty-five minutes for every turn forward.

It took several more tedious minutes of experimental turning, but then—finally—the hands locked into the three o' clock place with such a loud click it made Alyssa jump in surprise.

The graceful clock chimed musically three times—and then the wall behind it began to groan and quake, and dust and plaster puffed away from the wallpaper in bursts of white powder.

With another noisy groan and a loud rasp that sounded like a heavy gear grinding, the wall between the clock and the fireplace slid open, like an elevator door. For a moment Alyssa could only stare, feeling like she had stepped out of her old life completely and into someone else's, someone who lived in a fairy-tale instead of the real world.

The room beyond the new doorway was even more surreal. The papered walls and marble floor were brilliant scarlet. To her left was a short chest of drawers with bottles and jars of various sizes lined across its top. To her right was a cabinet with glass doors, and through them she could see more jars and other curious objects. To the left of the cabinet was a broad desk half covered with an embroidered white cloth. A short brass desk lamp sat on one corner of the cloth, illuminating stacks of paper and other writing tools.

And on the shining floor someone had drawn a set of circles. Between the first and second larger circles were six smaller circles, each one bordering an intricate pattern. Beneath them was a third, final circle, and inside it was another intricate, mysterious pattern. Though the lines were dark, Alyssa recognized it at once as the pattern of symbols that had appeared and circled around her feet just before the glass bottle transformed into the strange bow.

Kneeling down, she ran a finger over the outer circle and was surprised to see that the image was beneath the surface of the floor, like it had been drawn on the other side of a piece of glass.

When she stood up again her eye fell on a white envelope propped on the desk; her name was neatly written in her mother's handwriting across the front. Alyssa darted forward and snatched it up.

'If you are reading this now,' the letter inside read, 'it means that you were successful in your first real battle. I'm so proud of you!

'I would love to say that everything is all right now, but the danger that follows you grows closer with every passing moment. You must stay strong, my darling daughter. Stay strong, be quick, and when all else fails—fight. You must fight as hard as you can if you are to survive.

'I wish I had more time, but the only thing I can tell you now is about how to use the portal that's beneath your feet.

'These special symbols have the power to link any two places in the world, no matter how much distance—or time—lay between them. Whenever you come across one, you can activate its powers by purifying it. Just be careful when you do, dearest Alyssa; our enemies know how to use them, too.'

For once, Alyssa didn't feel confused. She knew now beyond all doubt that what she had seen was real. The evils—the Entities—she faced were real, and there were more out there, waiting. Waiting on the other side of the portal she was standing on. Where or when it would take her, Alyssa didn't know, but she knew she had to find out.

Whatever was going on, her mother must have tried everything she could to keep it from happening. At the same time, she had left Alyssa the tools she needed in case something went wrong. And, Alyssa realized, she needed to make use of those tools as quickly as she could. Her mother's letters often mentioned her fifteenth birthday as being a particularly important—and dangerous—day. She didn't know what that meant, but her instincts were telling her that she needed to act before that day rolled around. Something was going to happen when she turned fifteen, and if she didn't do something to stop it now...tomorrow it would be too late.

Purifying the circle was obvious enough; after all, what was purer than holy water?

Kneeling down again, Alyssa uncapped the blue bottle and began carefully trickling a line of water along the outer edge of the pattern. As she worked her way along the large image, she wondered for the first time just how much water the bottle held. Half-way through she paused to give it a shake; it felt as full as it had the first moment she picked it up.

She repeatedly tested its weight while she worked before finally deciding that it somehow never ran dry, and didn't bother to think about it anymore. When she reached the place she first started, the mystical pattern suddenly lit up like a beam of white light was rapidly tracing across the intricate lines. Once lit, the group of symbols in the center pulsed slightly, and there was a faint humming sound in the air.

Alyssa returned the bottle to her belt and, after taking a deep, quavery breath, stepped onto the glowing pattern and gave herself over to wherever it might take her.


	12. Chapter 12: Torn Apart

**Chapter 12: Torn Apart**

Alyssa was cold and very, very wet.

She felt dizzy and tingly, like she had just tried to get up too fast after sitting for a long time. As if mocking her moment of disorientation, the night was unleashing a fury of rain. Huge, billowing cumulonimbus clouds blanketed the dark sky overhead, hiding the stars and moon.

The icy night was silent except for the sound of rainfall. There were no traces of thunder—to Alyssa's disappointment. With no flashes of lightning to light her way, she was forced to remain still until her eyes adjusted to her abrupt change of environment, despite the sheets of freezing rain soaking through her clothes.

As her eyes adapted, she could make out the shapes of brick buildings surrounding her. Bits of silver chain link fence ran here and there, sectioning off parts of what appeared to be some sort of courtyard or park. Brown, dead grass was beneath her feet, and wooden flower boxes surrounded the small area. Leafless, spindly trees sagged in the drenched soil, looking as cold and water-logged as Alyssa felt.

She tried rubbing her arms for warmth, but it was no use; the air here was even colder and more unforgiving than the London Streets had been. She was pretty sure her lips were already turning blue.

Shivering, she began to walk through the relentless rain, head down. She couldn't really tell from her surroundings where—or when—she was. The featureless fences and buildings could be anywhere from ten to fifty years old. Across from her was an opening in the fence, though there wasn't any type gate in sight.

Beyond the fence was a rain-soaked road made from gray-brown brick, faintly lit by a flickering streetlight. Alyssa tried to guess when how old the bricks might be, but it was impossible to tell how new or worn they were through all the puddles. She was about to step onto the road when something tucked next to the fence caught her eye; a lone, dented trash can.

Hoping to find something—anything—that had been thrown away with a date on it, Alyssa hurried over and peered down inside it. The light was poor and the can was almost empty, but she could just make out what looked like an extremely soggy, crumpled newspaper. She carefully dug it out and went to stand under the streetlight.

The paper was starting to tear and the ink was smudged, but the headline was clear.

'Gruesome Murder in West Sussex'.

_Here we go again_, thought Alyssa. Her heart began to pound as she read further.

'The bodies of elderly Dorothy Rand and her toy-maker son, Albert Rand, were discovered late Tuesday afternoon. Both bodies were found in a drum filled with acid in the garage adjoining their home on Russel Street. Though there are no leads or suspects at this time, authorities believe that a large sum of money was the motive for this heinous crime.

'Mrs. Rand, who was legally blind, required assistance in day to day tasks. Albert Rand, a clever young craftsman, made a comfortable living for them both from selling toys, and due to his profession was quite popular with the local children. Though both bodies were badly damaged before being removed from the acid, the coroner has confirmed that Rand's eyes were brutally removed prior to his death.

'Police are currently investigating reports of a young man seen with the Rands several days before the murders took place. Locals are saying the man appeared abruptly, claiming to be a distant relative of Mrs. Rand, and has since disappeared just as mysteriously.'

Alyssa felt numb as she finished reading the article, and not from the cold. She knew in her heart that no sane human being would commit a crime so horrible. The culprit was kin to Robert Morris—mad, ruthless, and unspeakably cruel. Tightening her chilled fingers on the saturated page, she quickly scanned the article again for a date.

November 23, 1963.

Two decades later than her last trip through time, but the warmth and safety of her own home seemed further away than ever. Alyssa returned the newspaper to the trash with a heavy heart; reading about Dorothy and Albert reminded her of her own mother.

Keeping as close to the wall behind the streetlight as she could, Alyssa started down the rain-soaked road. The lights, dim to begin with, could barely shine through the thick sheets of rain. Alyssa kept on the same side of the street as the streetlights, until the road turned sharply to the left.

It was a little brighter here, thanks to a light hanging above a door that led into the building she had been walking next to. As she looked around the corner, she realized that it was a large brick home. She also saw something that made her stomach lurch and her mouth turn dry.

Near the door was an old, rusted dumpster. And hanging limply over the side was the ghostly white shape of a human arm. Alyssa did not want to take a closer look, and kept her distance as she passed. Lying dejectedly in a nearby puddle was a brown crocheted bear; as she stepped over it, its black button eyes pooled with raindrops until they spilled over, trickling to the soaked ground like tears.

The road continued on, but Alyssa could already see that her path was blocked. The road itself was flanked by long brick buildings, with little to no space between them, and at the end of the road was a green car. One tire rested against the wall, causing the vehicle to tilt. The trunk was broken and hanging open, and its contents had spilled out onto the road. If there had been anyone riding in the car at the time of the crash, there was no way they could have escaped the crumpled cab alive.

Alyssa's heart was thumping again. Her last journey through time had also had her following a veritable trail of corpses, until they inevitably led her to the den of a Subordinate. As she stood there, pulse racing warm despite the rain, she knew that another was close by.

The door next to the dumpster had been painted once, but time and weather had stripped it back down to the dull, bare wood. Alyssa gripped the ice-cold knob and turned, but it wouldn't budge. Undaunted, she continued along the front of the house; there had to be _some_ way to get inside. She would climb through a window if she had to.

As she continued on, heading toward another set of flickering lights, she noticed that someone had spray-painted the wall so it read 'Get ready to go to Hell'.

Alyssa felt another chill; that wasn't just idle graffiti. Someone knew she was coming.

The pair of flickering lights were clamped on either side of another door, just as weathered as the first. This time the knob turned easily and Alyssa hurried inside, grateful to finally be out of the pouring rain.

She found herself standing in a narrow entryway, with a metal umbrella stand directly to her left. An old-fashioned light fixture hung from the ceiling from worn black wires and without any sort of covering over the dusty bulb. The light it cast was yellow and unpleasant.

Alyssa stayed where she was, shivering uncontrollably as she waited to stop dripping. She knew she couldn't stand around until she was completely dry—if she could dry out all in, given how cold the air was.

The chill in her bones wasn't the only thing keeping her from moving. Beyond the small entryway was a short room with a set of double doors on the left-hand side. Further down the area connected to a narrow hallway, which turned towards the left. There were cardboard boxes and other discarded articles tucked in the corners, giving the place a sloppy, unkempt look. And on the floor, right outside the doors, was a very large bloodstain.

The stain spread across the floor in streaks, as if someone had dragged something through the doorway. The marks didn't look fresh, but Alyssa knew better than to assume anything anymore.

Though her teeth were still chattering, she forced herself to move away from the front door and began tip-toeing down the hall, ignoring the shudder that ran through her as her feet touched the stain. She tested the handles of both doors, but they were locked.

As she turned away from the door, Alyssa thought she heard a faint sound from deep within the stone silent house. She quickly held still again and strained to listen; it sounded like some kind of bell.

Feeling more curious than frightened, Alyssa crept down the hallway, keeping close to the left-hand wall. Resting her hand on top of what looked like some kind old-fashioned record player standing near the corner, she slowly leaned forward and peeked further down the hall.

The hallway continued for several more feet before turning left again, past another closed door. There was another hallway to her right, but she was too far away to see down it.

Her attention was quickly drawn to the other end of the hallway as she heard something scraping near the closed door, followed by the bell sound again. A second later a figure turned the corner and hobbled in her direction.

Alyssa quickly drew back in fear, but she soon realized that the figure hadn't spotted her yet. She also realized that there was nothing dark or menacing about him, either; the feeling that welled up inside her as he drew closer was very much like pity.

The figure was a man in his mid to late thirties, with dark hair and eyes and the faintest shadow of a beard. He was wearing a dark red sweater and a blue knit cap, and a heavy smock covered in light stains was tied around his waist. As he shuffled his feet across the floor, a bell hanging from his right hand jingled.

As he came closer, a clacking could be heard over the bell, and Alyssa saw that he was holding a long cane in his other hand, and tapping it along the floor as he walked. As he passed under the light of one of the fixtures, Alyssa had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in horror.

His eyes weren't dark; he had no eyes at all. Black, empty sockets stared ahead, unseeing, as he shuffled along. Streaks of blood stained his cheeks, like trails of red tears.

Even though he couldn't have looked more harmless, Alyssa moved back around the corner and pressed her back against the wall, treating the record player like a barricade. Harmless or not, a permeable cloud of desperation and grief surrounded him, so intense it made Alyssa's heart tighten uncomfortably. She wasn't eager to learn just what that desperation might drive him to do.

Huddled against the wall, she held as still as she knew how, not daring to breathe as the lost soul of Albert Rand came closer to her hiding place. As he rounded the corner, she could hear he was muttering to himself under his breath.

"Mother," he sighed, his low voice little more than a moan. "Where have you gone, Mother. I keep searching and searching, but..."

Albert suddenly froze, his hunched form turning so rigid the bell stopped jingling. Alyssa stiffened fearfully but stayed where she was.

Several seconds of silence past—and then Albert whirled on her, coming so close his smock brushed against her bare shins. Alyssa bit back a squeak of surprise and pressed herself harder against the wall as the empty sockets leered at her.

"Who are you?" demanded Albert, his voice accusing and firm, but only slightly louder than when he spoke a moment ago.

Confronted with the twins holes and bloodstained face, Alyssa couldn't speak. Her mind went blank of all things except that she was looking at a dead man—a dead man teetering on the brink of insanity and who would probably attack her if she said the wrong thing. She didn't know what to do if that happened; he wasn't evil like the Subordinates, so she had no weapon against him. She wouldn't have wanted to use one, anyway.

Albert suddenly struck the wall next to her head with his cane, almost making Alyssa shriek. She instinctively covered her head with her hands and slid down the wall, her rear nearly meeting her heels. A moment passed before she noticed that Albert hadn't moved; a glance up told her that he was still staring at the same spot, high above her head.

The weary man abruptly turned away with an agonized sigh. "Don't know what's real anymore," Alyssa heard him mutter as he shuffled away. "Oh, why can't I find you...?"

Remaining as still as possible, Alyssa watched sadly as he made his way to the front door. He fumbled a moment for the knob, then ruefully twisted it and stepped outside into the rain. The door slammed so hard behind him Alyssa nearly jumped out of her skin.

Getting up shakily, Alyssa walked slowly to the front door. The thought of Albert out in the cold, unforgiving night as he fervently searched for his mother weighed heavily on her heart. She was already imagining there was some way to help him, like May, so she at least wanted to know where he was headed so she could find him later. But when she grabbed the knob and tried to turn it, it wouldn't budge.

Frowning hard, Alyssa turned, twisted, and jiggled the knob, then gave up and tried pushing the door itself, but it was no use. The cold, wet night had caused the old wood to warp and expand, jamming it in place.

Sighing, Alyssa turned away and headed back to the hallway. After rounding the corner, she decided to check down the adjoining hall on the right-hand side before exploring the rest of the house.

There was a closed door directly ahead, and another off to her left. As she drew nearer, she could faintly hear the sound of muffled sobbing coming from behind the latter.

Her heart weighing heavily again, Alyssa crept closer and pressed her ear against the door. From within she could hear subtle movements; the shuffling of feet, the scrape of a chair leg, the clanking of something metal. Among the faint noises was the sound of the endless sobs of one in complete and total despair.

Alyssa knew it must be Dorothy, undoubtedly as blind in death as she had been in life. And with Albert's sight gone as well, they were both damned to search for each other for eternity. Search, but never find. The thought of the two pathetic souls stumbling through their endless darkness made Alyssa all the more determined to do whatever she had been sent to this time to do.

Although she doubted it would be as easy as guiding them to each other, she decided it wouldn't hurt to try. Gripping the cool doorknob, Alyssa began turning it slowly.

The knob felt stiff and resisted being moved. Turning harder, Alyssa rested her other hand on the door itself as she continued to listen to Dorothy inside. As she continued to turn, she thought she felt a tremor run through the wood of the door. She paused, but the only sound she could hear was Dorothy sobbing, so she resumed turning the knob, harder this time.

The knob suddenly popped in her hand, rattling like someone on the other side was twisting it violently. The door itself was buzzing and trembling, as though an electric current was rushing through it. Alyssa hastily let go and hopped back; the trembling stopped.

Unnerved but refusing to give up, Alyssa cautiously took hold of the knob again. This time she felt the door vibrate the moment she touched it, and when she tried turning the knob, a force like an angry bear began hammering against the door.

Alyssa staggered back and fell against the wall. The ruckus stopped as soon as she moved away, and, after several minutes of hesitation, Alyssa stretched her hand for the knob again. The wooden door buzzed angrily, and the knob rattled and clanked so hard she thought it would fly clean out of its holdings.

Finally giving up, Alyssa moved slowly away from the door and back into the main hallway. She knew there was nothing she could do—for now, at least. She also knew that the violent barricade wasn't there by accident.

Someone had deliberately sealed Dorothy Rand up, making doubly certain she and her son would never find each other. That same someone was also making sure no one else interfered. And that someone, whoever he was, was much stronger and more clever than Robert Morris.

And Alyssa knew that she needed to tread very, very carefully.


	13. Chapter 13: A Vision in the Dark

**Chapter 13: A Vision in the Dark**

Alyssa followed the main hallway until it turned the corner, leading her past another locked door. Further on was a set of stairs that led up to the second level and another door. Only this one, she discovered when she tested the knob, was unlocked.

The square room on the other side looked like a bedroom; a bed with a patterned quilt was off in one corner, a desk sat to the right of the door, and a boxy bookcase mostly hid the wall beside it. A small table stood next to the bed, with a tiny vase holding a dried flower on top of it. The flower was a luminous white that seemed to mirror the moon depicted in the painting hanging above the table.

Alyssa was mostly interested in the desk. With memories of all the information she had found in print in the tailor shop fresh in her mind, she quickly began searching around for newspapers or a journal. It only took a glance to find the worn brown book lying on the corner of the desk. Sitting in the nearby desk chair, Alyssa opened the slim journal and began to read.

'I can't believe it's already been seven years since Mum lost her sight,' an entry near the middle began. 'She tries hard to stay cheerful, but I know it's difficult for her. And it's only going to become more difficult as she grows older. I'm content to stay right here and take care of her, but I'd like to make the remainder of her life as comfortable as possible.

'I went to the bakery the other day, and Percy mentioned a good optometrist that lives in London. I haven't told Mum about my plan yet. I want to wait until I have enough money saved up. It's taken a lot of time and hard work, but I should be able to afford the operation before too much longer.'

The date marked at the top of the page was November 13th. Though no year was mentioned, Alyssa was positive the entry had been made days before Albert's murder. She read on, but there were only two more entries. The remaining pages were blank.

The next entry was from three days after the previous one. The brief paragraph mentioned that a distant relative had come for a visit, though Albert had his doubts about the man's legitimacy. Dorothy, on the other hand, scolded her son for being so suspicious, and agreed to let the man stay with them.

The following entry was even briefer, but disturbing. Albert complained about hearing strange noises at night for the past several days and was starting to lose sleep because of it. His final words were naively mentioning a string of burglaries around the neighborhood, and reminding himself to lock all the doors before going to bed. The date was November 21st.

Alyssa reread the brief paragraph sadly before turning back to the previous entry. She, unlike the Rands, knew the true nature of their mysterious visitor, and Albert had supplied her with his name; John Haigh.

Though she had never seen the name before, it gave her a chill. If he was anything like the previous Subordinate, they would be getting to know each other quite well, and very soon.

Alyssa set the journal down and got up to examine the rest of the room. The nearby bookcase, which looked handmade, contained multiple books about toy design, woodcraft, how to care for tools, and many other pieces of informative literature that one would expect to find in the possession of a skilled craftsman. Sitting on one of the shelves was a red toolbox, but it was locked tight.

After a quick tour of the rest of the room, Alyssa came to the conclusion that there was nothing else of interest to be found. Hands on her hips, she let out a sigh of frustration; all the other rooms in the house were locked, so if she couldn't find anything in here, she was at a dead end. Determined not to give up, she double-checked the desk and bookcase and poked around the table, but the sparse room had little else to offer. Rapidly running out of ideas, Alyssa went over to the small bed and felt beneath the pillow.

When her search proved fruitless, she tugged back the quilt and checked under the mattress. She didn't find anything there, either, but her search had brought her to another conclusion; the Rands' were ill equipped to hide anything, least of all large amounts of money.

The newspaper had mentioned this as being the motive for the murders, and since there was no mention of the money being recovered, she could only assume that the killer had taken it with him. Thinking about it made her remember the strange book from her grandfather's study—specifically the paragraph about Entities being drawn to someone pure but weak-willed. Easily manipulated. Whatever Haigh had been like before his possession, as a Subordinate he was now full of blood lust.

Alyssa found herself wondering if Subordinates felt greed as well, along with every other facet of the ugly side of human desire.

Shivering suddenly, Alyssa held still and listened, knowing that the possessed killer was lurking somewhere nearby. Her ears strained to pick up a sound—any sound—from within the house, but the air was thick with silence. She was too far away to hear Dorothy's sobs, and though she knew it must still be falling, she couldn't hear the sound of the rain anymore, either. The entire house felt unnatural, out of place—just like her own.

Shivering again, Alyssa turned away from the bed. Maybe she had missed something downstairs, or outside. Or maybe...

She stopped going over other places to check as something occurred to her. Silently scolding herself for not thinking of it sooner, she turned back around and knelt to peer under the bed.

The narrow space was dark, forcing her to stretch a hand out and feel around blindly. Amidst the uneven floorboards her fingers brushed something cold and hard. Feeling along its shape, she noted that it felt like some kind of ring. Thinking it might be a key ring, she started to pull it out where she could see it and was surprised when she felt a good deal of weight behind it. Something beneath the bed creaked.

Feeling curious and excited, Alyssa stood and began pushing the bed. It wasn't very heavy, but it still took a few minutes of pushing and tugging to move it away from the wall. Out of breath, she moved around it and knelt down again to see if the bed had been hiding what she thought it had been hiding.

The metal ring was anchored to a square of wood set in the floor and hinged in place. Feeling pleased with herself, Alyssa gave the ring a tug and lifted the hidden door, exposing whatever secrets lay beneath it.

Peering down, Alyssa saw what looked like a narrow passageway, extending straight beneath her. A faint light suggested that it led directly to a room below; the slight illumination was enough for her to see that there was a ladder anchored to one side of the wall.

Gripping the top rung, Alyssa carefully slid her legs down into the secret entryway, her feet finding a lower rung. As she descended the ladder, her nostrils were filled with the scents of soot and soil, along with a hint of dampness from the night rain.

When her feet hit bottom, Alyssa had to get on her hands and knees and crawl out of the small space. After getting to her feet and dusting herself off, she turned around and saw that she had crawled through the back of a fireplace.

It was made of red brick and wood, the mantel decorated with a single clock—all fake, of course. The fireplace itself was real enough but the chimney wasn't, so there couldn't ever be a fire lit there. Not without flooding the room above with smoke and ash, to say nothing of the rest of the house. There were no logs inside, only a heavy layer of soot, which had stained Alyssa's knees and palms black. She thought the whole thing was rather odd and a little more trouble than it was worth, but there wasn't much she could say about it—not when there were multiple secret passages in her own home.

Absently wiping her hands together, Alyssa moved around the new room, her eyes trailing over everything carefully. She had ended up in a dining room, with a long, rectangular table in the center, flanked with rows of rickety wooden chairs. An old-fashioned television set rested on a triangular cabinet in the corner, and propped beside it was a bright red fire extinguisher. To help the ruse, Alyssa assumed, since no fires were really being lit here.

The room, though large, was mostly empty, much like Albert's bedroom. A row of windows lined the back wall, half-hidden behind once white curtains, now grimy and yellow with age. A small cabinet filled with dishes was the only other piece of furniture to be seen.

Alyssa checked everything carefully—she wasn't looking forward to going back outside if searching the house proved useless. After checking both cabinets and behind the TV, she moved over to the table. She noticed that it was set with three empty teacups, and there was an old, slightly dented teapot in the middle. Lying next to it was a small key.

Relieved that her sooty journey hadn't been for nothing, Alyssa pocketed the key and turned from the table to look for another way out of the room. As she did, she suddenly noticed the dark stain on the floor.

It was dark brown and easy to overlook in the dim light, but there was no mistaking it. The stain started near the table and ran across the floor in patchy streaks, making a trail to the double doors that led out of the dining room. No doubt it touched the stain outside, made when someone dragged something—or someone—out of the room. Or, Alyssa realized, maybe it had been dragged _into_ the room; she wasn't really sure.

After unlatching the locked doors, she pushed them open and stepped back out into the main hallway, near the front door. Rapidly forming a map of the house in her mind, she hurried down the hall towards the small locked door at the far end. To her relief, the key she just found fit perfectly, and she was soon stepping inside the new room.

She had unlocked a large, cluttered kitchen. A tall cabinet with glass doors stood to her right, filled with more dishes and an assortment of herbs and spices. Directly to her left was a wobbly-looking table. The speckled cloth draped over it hung crookedly over the side, and one of the chairs had fallen over. Lying discarded on the floor, mostly hidden by the table cloth, was a pair of muddy boots.

In front of her was a long counter, the length of which was lined with pots and pans of various sizes. There was a soft thumping from the old metal basin of the sink as the corroded faucet above it dripped steadily. After glancing at the bare table, Alyssa checked the cabinet and counter carefully for any more clues. When she turned away from the counter and faced the room again, she jerked back and nearly screamed in surprise.

The pair of boots she had glimpsed from the other side of the table weren't discarded after all; they belonged to the feet of a badly burned corpse. Alyssa recovered from the shock quickly and knelt for a better look, though she didn't care to move any closer.

The unfortunate soul was a man dressed in slacks and a dark shirt with suspenders. He was lying on his stomach and facing away from her, for which Alyssa was glad; she didn't really want to see what kind of damage had been done to the flesh of his face. Lying next to his charred hand was a broken camera, a slightly damaged notebook, and several photographs. He had been a reporter, Alyssa realized, and quickly reached out and picked up the notebook.

The memo hastily scribbled inside told her that the late reporter had been investigating the murders of Albert and Dorothy. He mentioned having found an important clue, but didn't say what it was. The memo ended there.

Disappointed, Alyssa continued to flip through the notebook for any further information. As she turned to the middle, a folded newspaper clipping fell out from between the pages and into her lap.

'Serial Killer Meets Grisly End', the headline read. Resting her back against the cool tile of the kitchen counter, Alyssa unfolded the article and carefully read the rest.

'After being on the run for over a year, serial killer John Haigh died in a steel plating factory last night. Haigh was responsible for robbing and murdering several pensioners, whom he would then dispose of via placing them in a container of sulfuric acid.

'Since the acid used in the crimes was stolen, police began staking out all local facilities housing vats of sulfuric acid in the hopes of catching Haigh. The suspect was then spotted at a plating factory in Horsharn and, in an ironic twist, lost his balance during the ensuing struggle with authorities and fell into one of the vats of acid, meeting the same end as his victims.'

The article had been issued on the 11th of May, 1962. Over a year before the deaths of Albert and Dorothy. As Alyssa folded the paper again, it dawned on her that the killer hadn't even bothered to change his name once he'd resurfaced as a Subordinate. She wasn't sure if that was gusty or foolish.

After setting the notebook back beside its unfortunate owner, Alyssa picked up the photographs for a closer look, though her stomach did flip-flops as she did.

She suspected that the photographs were the clue mentioned in the notebook; they were pictures of the crime scene itself, or so it it said on the backs of the photos. In actuality, they depicted the crime itself; a man dressed in heavy-duty clothing, thick gloves and some kind of protective mask was dragging a large oil drum behind the Rands' home, and something that looked suspiciously like a pair of legs was visible above the rim. Alyssa didn't wonder how the photographer himself had become a victim; he must have been extremely close to have been able to get such clear shots.

Alyssa felt saddened as she placed the photographs on the floor again, but there really wasn't anything she could do for the poor man. At least he wasn't suffering to the extent that the Rands were.

Leaving the charred corpse behind, Alyssa unlatched the door at the back of the room. A blast of cold air and rain hit her face as she opened it. She was tempted to close it again, but she had searched the house as much as she could; it was time to look someplace new.

But, as she stepped back out into the ruthless night, she realized she had already been here; she had unlocked the door that was near the dumpster. Shielding her eyes from the rain with both hands, Alyssa scanned the dim road for anything she may have missed. When her gaze reached the spot beneath the streetlight off to her right she felt a shockwave.

Someone was standing beneath the light. Alyssa only caught a glimpse before they moved out of sight, melding into the darkness like a shadow, but that was all she needed. She instantly recognized the simple white dress and the brown chin-length bob. Now oblivious to the pouring rain, her heart pounded as she raced to the corner.

"Mum?"

She turned the corner and spied the figure standing outside the small park. Her back was facing her, but as Alyssa ran nearer, she turned to look over her shoulder. Alyssa's heart skipped a beat as she saw her mother's bright face smiling at her in the darkness.

Alyssa tried to move faster, but the pavement was too wet, causing her to slip and fall. Her outstretched palms took the brunt of the impact, sending spikes of pain up her arms. Blood trickled off into the puddles in ribbon-thin streaks. As Alyssa pushed herself to her feet, her mother suddenly turned and disappeared into the park. "Wait!"

Feet sloshing noisily through the puddles, Alyssa hurried to the entrance. It was darker here, but Alyssa knew she would still be able to see her mother's white dress. But, as she hastily searched the small space, she soon saw that there wasn't a soul around.

After circling the park for several minutes, Alyssa stopped moving and covered her face with her ice-cold hands. Had she really seen her mother, or...?

"I need to get out of here," she murmured aloud.

She needed to get back to the safety of her own home, if only for a little while. She needed to sit down, warm up and gather her thoughts. Only, she thought bitterly as she returned to the spot she first appeared, she wasn't sure if she could return at will. She hadn't returned the last time until the after the Subordinate was defeated.

As if in answer to her question, something sparkled on the ground at her feet. Alyssa bent and picked it up and was shocked when she recognized it. The bright silver key that unlocked her grandfather's desk.

She was about to straighten again when she spotted something else, something dark and curved in the grass. Alyssa reached out and touched it with her finger and felt nothing but the ground. But her heart filled with relief and hope as she reached for the bottle hanging from her belt; it was almost hidden by the withered grass, but she knew she was looking at the same kind of mysterious circle that had sent her here in the first place.

With the bottle in one hand and the key in the other, she traced the already soaked ground with holy water before stepping into the center of the circle. The same tingling, disorientated feeling she felt before filled her, and the dreary November night vanished from her sight.


	14. Chapter 14: Battle Eternal

_So sorry for the long delay on this chapter! I worked extra hard and made it extra long (and extra good...?) I also went back and fixed an error in the first chapter; Alyssa's birthday is in April so the game should be taking place in the spring, not the fall. A minor change, really, since most of the game takes place in the past anyway. Thanks so much for all the great reviews, everyone, I really appreciate them!_

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**Chapter 14: Battle Eternal  
**

Alyssa was greeted by a sea of scarlet. The sudden shift in color and brightness made her flinch and shield her eyes for several moments. When she lowered her hands again, she felt awash with relief; she was back in the mysterious room hidden behind her mother's bedroom wall.

Away from the freezing rain and unsettling darkness her mind grew clear and calm again. Fingering the key still clutched in her hand, she absently paced the length of the room and back as she thought.

Alyssa didn't know what she had seen in the darkness, but she knew it couldn't have been her mother. How could she have traveled back in time with her when she had driven off somewhere? And even if her mother _had_ found a way, she wouldn't have walked away when they finally found each other.

She had seen her enemy's handiwork; was he as skilled at creating illusions as he was at crafting barriers?

When this thought entered her mind, it made Alyssa frown hard. She looked down at the key she was holding again, wondering if she had been wrong about it, but there was no mistaking the unique triangular pattern on the side. She had seen her grandfather use it many times to lock and unlock the desk in his study. Dick Hamilton had always been a rather private person and he made sure to keep his most important papers locked safely away. And with him gone, who else could have left the key where she would find it but her mother?

Alyssa continued to pace as she replayed the moment in her mind, but it was no use. She couldn't be sure if she had really seen what she thought she saw, or if her tired mind had been playing tricks on her. Either way, the key was real enough, and she knew her next step was to find out what other secrets her grandfather's study held.

When she stepped outside the hidden room she stopped in surprise. Despite the late hour she had just left, she had expected it to still be in the afternoon at home. Instead, there was no trace of sunlight through the window above her mother's bed. The sky had grown cloudy and dark, making the room appear blurry and monochrome. The clouds looked too murky for there to be any starlight tonight.

Stepping carefully so not to trip in the poor light, Alyssa moved across the room and opened the bedroom door. To her surprise, the hallway lights were on. Alyssa smiled to herself as she headed for the end of the hall; Dennis must still be lurking about, searching for clues. She remembered that he fancied himself a bit of a detective when they were small.

Despite the burning lamps, the house was darker than before, and it made everything feel a lot less welcoming. Quickening her pace, Alyssa hurriedly pushed open the door that led to the stairway—and almost yelped in surprise as someone on the other side let out a startled cry.

Heart thumping from the sudden fright, Alyssa peeked around the door and saw Edward leaning against the nearby railing. He had a hand over his heart and was chuckling nervously.

"An inch closer and I would've had to kiss my boyish good looks goodbye," he joked.

Alyssa felt her cheeks heat a little; she had forgotten he was in the house. "Sorry," she murmured. "I was..."

"You're back a lot sooner than I expected," said Edward, interrupting. "Did you vanquish the forces of evil that quickly?"

Alyssa lowered her gaze to the key in her hand. "No, I..."

She was embarrassed. Not because of the teasing way Edward was speaking to her, but because she _had_ come back so soon. She felt guilty, too; Albert and Dorothy were dead and suffering eternally, and she had run away from the darkness and rain like a frightened child.

But, as she clutched the key tightly between her fingers, she knew she had come back for more than that. That little voice inside her was firmly telling her that she needed to find whatever information was hidden here before she could continue on. She suspected that her grandfather knew as much about Subordinates and how to fight them as her mother did, and all she needed to do was find the knowledge they had left behind for her.

Edward suddenly moved away from the railing, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he frowned. "What's this now?"

Alyssa looked at the desk key again. "This? It's nothing. Just..."

Her voice trailed off as Edward took hold of her other hand, turning the empty palm upward. The memory of her sudden fall to the rough pavement came back to her as she looked down at the series of scrapes and scratches that now decorated her palms. She had been too distracted before to notice, but now she realized that the harsh impact had torn through and scraped off several layers of skin. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but a few places were still oozing a little. As he studied the damage, Edward lightly touched one of the scrapes with his fingertips, making her hiss in pain.

He let go of her hand and took hold of her wrist, careful not to touch her injuries again. "Come on. I'll patch you up."

Alyssa opened her mouth to say she could take care of it herself, but no words came out. His warm hand was comforting as he pulled her downstairs with him, and the more she thought about it, the less she felt like being alone again. Closing her mouth again, she decided a little company was a good thing for the time being, though she still intended to bandage her wounds herself.

Neither spoke as Edward led the way back to his room. Along the way, Alyssa noticed that the lights had been switched on down here, too. It occurred to her that Dennis probably didn't know where the switches were for the different hallways, since their placement was a little confusing for someone who didn't live there.

When they reached Edward's bedroom she asked, "Have you seen Dennis recently?"

Edward shook his head. "Not since we parted ways upstairs."

He took a moment to close the curtains before leaving the room again. Since none of the lodgers had their own bathrooms, he had to head down the hall to find the nearest medicine cabinet. As she waited for him to return, Alyssa noticed that all of the newspaper clippings had been cleaned away.

As her eyes wandered the small room, she didn't see anything that looked like a personal belonging. The furniture, which had come with the room, wasn't embellished in any way that would make them unique to the room's current occupant. The single picture hanging on the right-hand wall was obviously one of her mother's simple landscapes, and the small bookcase off to the side held the same handful of classic novels found in every other lodger's room. Usually a lodger would put up pictures or posters, change the bedding or curtains, or add any number of touches that would make the room 'theirs'. Alyssa wondered why Edward never bothered to personalize anything.

Presently, the boy in question came back carrying a roll of gauze and a bottle of iodine. He indicated to the bed with a smile. "Have a seat."

After setting the desk key down on the nightstand, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed. Before she could reach for the gauze, Edward had dropped to his knees in front of her and taken hold of her right wrist.

"You don't have to bother," Alyssa said quickly. She tried to pull her hand away, but Edward held on firmly.

"It's no trouble."

"But..."

"You need to save your strength for when you go back to battle the legions of darkness, right?" He winked at her before proceeding to wipe her palm clean. Alyssa started to open her mouth, but her protest was cut off by a pained yelp as he began applying the iodine. Edward worked quickly and in a matter of moments he had her hand cleaned, disinfected and wrapped in gauze.

Another moment and he had finished her other hand. Alyssa absently flexed her fingers; her palms still stung a little, but she knew she was better off than if she had left her injuries unattended. She was glad her palms were now wrapped securely in gauze, considering the sort of unpleasant things she seemed to be encountering lately.

"All done," announced Edward, sounding pleased with him. He stood and recapped the iodine bottle. Alyssa flashed him a shy smile. "Thank you."

"No problem at all. I told you to come back whenever you needed to, didn't I?"

Smiling again, Alyssa got up and moved away from the bed. "Come again soon," he called as she headed out into the hall. "I get bored easy."

Alyssa chuckled a little. "I will. Thank you again."

She made it all the way to the other end of hall before she remembered the key. When she poked her head back into Edward's room he was lying down on the bed, ankles casually crossed and one arm tucked beneath his pillow. His other arm was extended towards the door, the desk key in his hand.

Alyssa flushed a little as she reached for Edward's upturned palm. She started to thank him for a third time, but her voice caught in her throat as his slender fingers suddenly closed around her own, trapping them.

"Next time you come back," he told her, his tone soft and a little lazy, "I expect a full report. Deal?"

Alyssa nodded, laughing a little. "Deal."

Back in the hall, Alyssa hurried to the main part of the house again and returned to her grandfather's study. Inside, she sat down behind the desk, unlocked the top right-hand drawer and slid it open. Lying inside was a plain brown notebook and a gray mask.

Though the mask sparked her interest, Alyssa moved it aside and took out the notebook first. Flipping it open, she immediately recognized Dick Hamilton's precise, almost severe handwriting. The message inside was brief, but it confirmed what Alyssa had come to suspect; her grandfather was well aware of the existence of Rooders and Subordinates.

'During my studies, I have made several interesting observations about the weapons of a Rooder. Specifically, the nature of their weapons or tools to completely change shape depending on the needs of the wielder. A Rooder's power is primarily the power of protection, so a lethal weapon only appears during the most dire of times. Intriguingly enough, the form this weapon takes differs greatly from person to person, a distinct reflection of that Rooder's inner-self. I have also seen evidence that an especially strong Rooder has the ability to summon their weapon at will, though this seems to be an extremely rare occurance.'

Alyssa sat quietly for a moment, thinking about how the letter she had found behind the fireplace said something very similar. The letter was still hidden in her pocket, and she pulled it out, unfolded it and began rereading it. As she did, a thought that had been teasing at the back of her mind almost since the moment she first read the word slowly crept forward; was all this happening because _she_ was really a Rooder?

The evidence seemed pretty clear at this point, but Alyssa was having a hard time believing it. How could she be so different and not know it until now? And why had her mother kept all of this hidden from her? The more she thought about it, the more she felt sure that knowing the truth would have been much safer for her than being kept in the dark all these years.

With a small sigh, Alyssa folded the letter again and returned it to her jacket pocket before reaching down to lift the mask from the drawer. To her surprise, it was made from stone and was quite heavy. She absently hefted it in her hands as her eyes were drawn to the bare spot on the wall, and to the empty hook she had noticed before. It occurred to her that whatever mechanism the hook controlled probably responded to a specific weight; it was no coincidence that the mask she was holding was made of stone while the others were made of paper or light wood. It was also very plain, looking like nothing more than the vague image of a face.

When she placed the mask on the hook, something inside the wall groaned noisily, followed by a clicking sound. Part of the wall separated from the rest at an invisible seam, swinging inward like a door.

She had suspected as much, but Alyssa still felt a little awed as she stepped through the exposed doorway; just how many more secrets did the Hamilton house hold?

The little room was dark, but Alyssa could see the vague shape of a desk lamp. Switching it on, she looked around and saw that she was in what seemed to be a small, private library. The walls to her left and right were lined with books, but the long wall in front of her was covered in family pictures. Images of herself and her mother were scattered among the faces of distant relatives she barely knew, or didn't recognize at all.

This time, the item she was supposed to find was obvious. No doubt it was inside the large gold-colored box on the desk next to the lamp, glittering softly in the bright light. Alyssa expected to find herself on another key hunt before long, but the lid opened easily. Though the inside of the box was deep, there was only a slim object lying on the bottom; another notebook penned in her grandfather's handwriting. It was thicker than the one she found in the desk, and when she flipped it open she saw journal-like entries, starting with the 2nd of February, 1978.

'Our family—the Hamilton family—is just one of the many Rooder bloodlines scattered across Europe. Our lineage is particularly noble and I am quite proud to be a part of it—though, I admit, I did not at first believe in it, or in the Entities they have battled for so many centuries.'

Her heart thumping, Alyssa absently walked out of the secret room and sat down, growing so absorbed in her grandfather's words the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

'My late wife, Francesca, was the first to reveal the existence of Rooders, Entities and Subordinates to me, but in the arrogance of my youth, I dismissed it all as superstitious nonsense. I was also quite angry when I learned that the Hamiltons follow their own tradition in regards to marriage; since the Rooder bloodline only passes from mother to daughter, a male joining the family is expected to give up his surname and become a Hamilton, instead of the other way around. Naturally, I objected to this arrangement at the time, and when her mother clung to this tradition so hard and fast she went so far as to say I would be denied Francesca's hand if I disagreed, I very nearly walked away, but my love for Francesca won out in the end.

'It was shortly after our marriage that I found the Book of Entities, and finally realized that the Rooders are far more than just a fairy tale. I spent the following years studying their history all I could, while Francesca devoted her time to raising Nancy, our daughter. I quickly grew proud and honored to be part of such a grand and noble calling, but I couldn't help feeling a little inferior and—it shames me to admit—jealous, in such a matriarchal environment.

'Like all Rooders before her, Nancy's powers hit their peak during her early teens. Francesca trained her carefully, and I armed myself with knowledge, but I was still terrified when the time came for her to face the battle she had been born for. Fortunately, the situation she faced was not nearly as life-threatening as some I have read about, and she returned home safely. Still...I could not help feeling frustrated by how helpless I was during the entire affair.

'Time flies by so quickly. Nancy is already eighteen, and her Rooder powers are almost gone. Like the generations of Hamilton women before her, she will soon marry in order to continue the bloodline. Just like that, her childhood is over and gone. Before long there will be another man in her life, and she will turn to him from now on instead of me. It breaks my heart to think of it.

'And so the Hamilton family continues; my first grandchild was born today. Nancy allowed me the honor of naming her, and I've chosen to call her Alyssa. I only wish my dear Francesca had lived to see this day. I can already tell that Alyssa will grow up wise and strong, and I sense that her role in the Rooder bloodline will be one of particular significance.'

The final date was marked the 25th of April, 1988.

Alyssa slowly lowered the book to her lap, her eyes wandering over to the nearby desk and resting on the dusty tome still lying open there. That old book was the first time she read the words 'Rooder' and 'Subordinate'; had the same book opened her grandfather's eyes to their existence as well?

Still clutching the worn notebook in her hands, she got up and went to gaze at the portrait of Dick Hamilton.

"So, it's true then," she murmured softly, both to herself and to the painting. "I _am_ a Rooder...my whole family is. Mum tried to keep it from me to protect me, but..."

_But I've the same Rooder strain that she has_, she realized. "If she was able to do it, then I know I can, too," Alyssa decided, suddenly full of confidence and hope. "I'll go back and save Dorothy and Albert, and then I'll finally be free of this nightmare. And I'll find my mother, too."

She looked up at the portrait a moment longer before leaving the study. She hurried back up to the scarlet room and saw that the mysterious portal was still glowing, waiting for her. After straightening the glass bottle on her hip, she walked to the middle of the circle and was swept back to the stormy night in November, 1963.

When she felt the harsh pelting of raindrops, Alyssa ducked her head and made a beeline for the Rand's door, careful not to go so fast that she tripped again. Back inside, she retraced the map of the large house she had formed in her head as she walked briskly down the empty hallway. She was pretty sure she had been everywhere she could go, but there had to be _something_ else here. Another secret passage, maybe; those seemed to frequently cross a Rooder's path.

As she moved by the adjoining hallway that led past the door imprisoning Dorothy, Alyssa paused. After she had been driven away by the force keeping the door shut she had forgotten about the other one, the one at the far end of the hall. Now she walked towards it, careful to stick close to the right-hand wall. When she reached for the doorknob, she almost expected it to jump or jerk in her hand, but it remained still. Completely still; no matter how hard she turned it, it refused to budge.

Grunting with effort, Alyssa pulled and pushed against the door as she alternately twisted the stubborn knob left and right, but it was old and rusted and stuck firmly in one position. Not ready to give up, Alyssa pulled back and rammed the door with her shoulder.

She didn't expect much to happen, but the feeble old door gave way with a splintering sound as part of the frame tore loose. Alyssa fell forward with a startled squeak, and the next thing she knew she was back outside. Her hands brushed the ground as she struggled to regain her balance, and she felt quite glad that her injured palms were protected from the dirty rainwater.

Straightening, she looked around and saw that she was in a narrow space between the house and another building, which she assumed was also owned by the Rands. She was facing the side of a set of stairs made from brick and iron, and to her left was a closed door. A glance inside told her that it was just an outhouse, so she headed to the bottom of the stairs and started upward.

At the top of the steps were two doors leading inside the brick building next to the Rands' home, and off to the left was another set of stairs leading downward again. Alyssa tested the closest door and discovered it was locked, so she followed the soft light cast by the nearby glass sconce to the other door. As she drew closer, she noticed that the rain wasn't as heavy here. The air was still unbearably cold, and she was relieved that the second door was unlocked.

As soon as she stepped inside the new room, her nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh wood, different types of glue, and the strong aroma of paint. There was a long workbench running along the walls, almost encircling the entire room. To the right of where she stood was a set of double doors, which she guessed led into the room that was locked from outside.

This room, which was obviously where Albert made his toys, was a mess. There was a table and a set of chairs in the center, all knocked aside or tipped over. Parts of unfinished toys had been knocked from the bench and scattered around, and rows of unfinished laundry hung above her head from strings. Alyssa was drawn to the workbench, knowing that if there was anything lying around that could help soothe Albert Rand's soul, it had to be here.

Alyssa slowly made her way around the room, checking all around and under the bits and pieces of unfinished toys. As she pushed aside what looked like the framework for a rocking horse, she bumped a fat green bottle that reeked of strong chemicals. She gingerly pushed the bottle safely away from the edge of the workbench, careful not to breathe too deeply.

As she turned away from the dangerous-looking substance, she noticed that the room had somehow turned brighter. She turned around and saw that the light hanging from the middle of the ceiling had switched on. She also noticed, with a rapidly beating heart, that the room was now neat and orderly. The laundry overhead, which had been brittle and stiff from hanging too long when she first came in, looked freshly hung and damp, and the scent of detergent mingled with the other fragrances in the room.

The sound of footsteps were approaching, making her heart beat even faster. With a rapidly forming realization of what was going on, her eyes darted around the room, seeking some place to hide. She quickly spotted and darted into what looked like a storage cubby in the corner of the room. It wasn't very concealing, with only a curtain of beads hanging in front of her and a screen draped with laundry nearby that partially shielded her from view, but it was the best she could do.

As she scooted further back in her hiding spot the side door swung open and Albert Rand strolled in. Not the tortured soul she saw a little while ago, but a sturdy-looking man who stood tall and walked with brisk, deliberate steps. He paused near Alyssa's hiding place, making her insides clench fearfully, but then he moved on and stood next to the workbench.

Alyssa wasn't afraid of him—not at all—but of what was about to happen. She watched, hand pressed to her mouth to hide her breath, as she watched Albert examine a smooth length of wood. After turning it over in his hand, he picked up an awl and began gouging a tiny hole with the sharp point. Behind him, the door swung open again, making him turn around in surprise.

"You shouldn't be wandering around alone," he gently chided the kind-looking old woman who shuffled in, cane in hand. "Especially at night."

"Oh, nonsense," said Dorothy, half-resisting, half-allowing her son to guide her to a nearby chair. "I'm not so far gone that I can't call my only son in for dinner."

Her sightless eyes closed, Dorothy listened with her head slightly cocked as Albert put his tools away. "You've been squirreled away in here for days," she commented. "Perfecting some new wooden wonder, I imagine?"

From her hiding place, Alyssa watched as Albert turned away from his mother and reached for something on the workbench. She held still and kept silent, but on the inside she was screaming. She wanted to shout at them to run, to find someplace to hide, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. She was helpless to stop what was happening right before her very eyes.

Just like May, the Rands were being forced to relive their deaths over and over again. Any second now their murderer would appear. She wondered, vaguely, if they were as unaware of what was to come as they were the night it first happened, or if they knew all too well and were powerless to stop it. Perhaps they were screaming inside as well, helpless as their pretend bodies were puppeted through their final actions before death.

Albert draped something over his mother's shoulders. Her worn hands felt the material curiously. "What's this?"

"A little something I put together during my spare time," her son replied, his voice gentle. "For when the nights get cold."

Though she couldn't see the shawl or its vibrant colors, it was clear the kindly old woman liked her son's gift very much. But before she could fully express her thanks the set of double doors behind her burst open with a crash that shook the small building to its foundations.

Alyssa let out a startled scream before she could stop herself, but the sound was lost amidst the Rands' own shouts of shock and fear. Dorothy, who couldn't see what was going on but knew that something was terribly wrong, was trying to duck beneath the table. Looming behind her was the same figure Alyssa had seen in the reporter's photographs, though he looked far more horrible in person.

The protective smock he wore was covered in red and brown stains, and the mask he was wearing hid his face. There was some kind of filter at the mouth, probably to keep him from breathing in the toxic chemicals he carried around. Like the previous Subordinate Alyssa had seen, he moved with almost animalistic aggression, although, she quickly noticed, his movements were much swifter. With a wild laugh, he shoved the feeble table aside and seized the terrified Dorothy by the throat. Her new shawl, made with such loving care, fell to the floor and was trampled beneath their feet.

"Happy families like you make me sick," he hollered, still laughing as he hauled the screaming old woman across the room and slammed her against the workbench. Toys and tools clattered and banged to the floor.

Alyssa had to remind herself that this wasn't really happening, that getting up and trying to help them wouldn't do any good. They were already dead, and if tried to interfere now, there was a pretty good chance she would get herself killed, too. She forced herself to stay still as she watched Albert vainly grab a chair, ready to pummel the undead being assaulting his mother.

The Subordinate just laughed and pulled something long, thin and tube-like from his back. As he turned around, still clutching the wailing Dorothy, Alyssa saw a tank strapped to his back. The object in his hand was connected to the tank with a slim hose and there was a small nozzle on the end. After easily knocking the chair out of Albert's hands, he pointed the nozzle at him and squirted a yellowish liquid onto his arm. Albert recoiled with a pained howl, knocking into the workbench as he backed away. His attacker bent and picked up something that had fallen to the floor, all the while laughing like a madman.

Suddenly Dorothy was released, but with no sight and her mind locked up in fear, she couldn't do anything more than stumble around blindly, screaming and sobbing as she called for her son. Behind her, the killer reached for Albert, the object he had picked up raised above his head. Alyssa saw a flash of silver and realized it was the awl Albert had been using earlier. Too sick to watch any longer, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and clamped her hands over her ears, but she wasn't able to block out Albert's screams, or shut the image of what she knew was happening out of her mind.

The screams only lasted a moment, and when Alyssa dared open her eyes again, the acid-killer was dragging Dorothy out of the room. Albert was half-lying, half-kneeling on the floor, one hand pressed to his bleeding face. The other was stretched fervently towards his mother, helpless to stop the man who was dragging her into the next room. There was a metallic banging sound and then he returned, hoisting Albert onto his shoulder as if he were nothing but a toy himself.

Alyssa scooted from her hiding place, staying close to the workbench as she crawled to a spot where she could see into the other room. There was little point in hiding now; this horrid moment in time was almost over, and then _she_ would be the next target. Just like she had been after witnessing May's death.

Through the open doors she could see the killer pushing Albert, headfirst, into an empty drum. He then reached for a large container, like a gas can, one of several sitting next to the drums. "With both of you blinded, you'll be damned to wander the afterlife forever. You'll search and search, but you'll never find each other again," were his last words before he began pouring the acid into the drums.

There were more screams and a lot of noisy thrashing, but things quieted down again with shocking speed. Alyssa, breath ragged, gripped the edge of the workbench behind her as she got to her feet and stared through the open doorway. The killer had his back to her; if she moved quietly, could she get by without him noticing?

As the thought was forming in her mind, the undead killer turned around, acid-spewing weapon in his hand. "Would you like to join them?"


	15. Chapter 15: The Relentless Killer

**Chapter 15: The Relentless Killer  
**

Alyssa didn't waste an instant. She yanked the glass bottle from her belt, pulled off the cap and flung the sparkling water at the undead killer with all her might.

The evil being recoiled with a coarse holler and cries of "hot!" as coils of steam rose from his body like mist. Not sticking around for him to recover, Alyssa turned and started to run.

She didn't get very far. She reached the end of the long workbench before she realized that her attacker had backed away to a spot between the two sets of doorways, blocking both of her possible escape routes.

Ready to battle her way through, Alyssa scanned the bench for anything she could use as a weapon, something she could force her way by with. Her eye fell on the chemical bottle she had bumped earlier.

She wasn't sure it would do any good against his protective clothing, but she grabbed the bottle and spun around, poised to throw it. The inhuman being had recovered and was approaching her again, laughing at the object in her hand. Alyssa hurled it at him with a grunt, aiming for his head in the hopes that the impact would daze him long enough for her to run by.

Still laughing, the Subordinate swiped at the bottle, causing a thin spray of acid to leak out as the metal rod he held struck the bottle. The glass shattered and the chemical spewed out into the air. As it mixed with the acid, the flammable liquid burst into flames. The killer jerked back with a startled yell, but it was too late; the flaming droplets pelted him like deadly rain, igniting his clothes as they fell and made contact.

Alyssa waited until he had staggered back and slumped against the far wall before darting past and racing out the door she had originally come in through. Outside, she flew over the narrow walkway and down the second flight of stairs. When she reached the bottom she stumbled a little and bumped into a chainlink fence. A drainage ditch was on the other side, but she didn't pause to look at it beyond to see if there was any way she could escape across it. There didn't appear to be, so she pushed away from the fence, turned around and kept on running.

She only made it a few feet more before she had to stop; she had reached a dead end. The side of the stairs she had just descended was to her left, and to her right was another brick wall, with three extremely large ventilation fans built into it. Directly ahead of her was some kind of control mechanism with pipes connected to it; the building she was standing next to was a probably a pump station, or a power plant. There was a large bolt sticking out of the mechanism.

Her hand on her belt, she slowly turned around, eyes pointing up at the top of the stairs fearfully. But the area was quiet except for the sound of the rain. The Subordinate had given up his chase...for now.

Moving away from the fans, Alyssa walked slowly back to the base of the stairs, stepping quietly in case the undead killer was in earshot. Whether he was or wasn't, she knew she had no choice but to head back the way she came. As she rested her hand on the thin metal railing, something moving in the water on the other side of the fence caught her eye.

There was a sewer grate at the end of the ditch. The water, swelled from the rain, was rushing through it rapidly, draining somewhere underground. Something was caught on the grate, something that flapped like a flag in the wind.

_Dorothy's_ _shawl_, she realized.

If there was anything here that would calm the old woman's soul, that had to be it. But Alyssa couldn't get to it from here. She could probably climb the fence, but the water was rushing awfully fast and no doubt it was freezing cold. If the temperature didn't shock her motionless, the force of it would probably knock her clear off her feet, and either case was a bad idea when an insane, undead murderer was on her tail. She had to find another way.

Alyssa turned away from the fence and looked up at the walkway above her head again. Everything was still quiet, so she went back to the contraption attached to the wall, and to the spinning fans. She had been ready to dismiss them as unimportant, but her Rooder instincts were pricking up again, much like the time they had told her that crossing the beams above the music stage was imperative to completing her goal. She went and stood in front of the fan that was spinning the slowest and saw a flash of red in the darkness behind the blades.

Curious, she crouched and squinted into the cavernous space behind the fan. The blades kept spinning around and around, making the spot of red seem like it was blinking as they passed in front of it. It finally dawned on her; it was some sort of light, which meant there had to be another room behind the fans. The ventilation shaft must pass clear through the wall.

It was as good an exit as any, she decided, since the only road out of the area was blocked. She straightened and looked at the prominent bolt again. Turning it would probably stop the fans, which was a must if she was going to go crawling between the blades, but there was no way she was going to be able to turn it with just her fingers. She was going to need a tool.

Hand still on her belt, she turned and started back up the dank steps. Her eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, her ears straining for sounds of movement over the rain, but there was no sign of a lurking killer. Alyssa hurried back into Albert's workshop.

The inside looked like it had the first time she saw it; dark and in disarray. The two wandering souls were nowhere to be seen. Alyssa checked around the workbench and on the floor, but she only saw hammers of different sizes, boxes of nails and screws, and a large assortment of carving tools. "What I need right now is a wrench," Alyssa muttered.

She looked around a moment more before her eye fell on the set of double doors across from her. They were closed again, but when she gave them a tug, they opened easily. The adjoining room was dark and musty smelling, and there were barrels and spare tires on the cement floor. Alyssa checked every crack and crevice eagerly, but instead of a wrench, she found a tiny silver key tucked away on a dusty shelf.

"No help there," she sighed, eyeing the shiny object. There weren't any more locked doors around—but there was the toolbox she saw in Albert's room, she suddenly remembered. Moving swiftly but quietly, she pocketed the key, went back outside and down the stairs to the back door of the house.

Keeping her eyes peeled and her ears open, she slunk down the hallway past Dorothy's prison and headed towards the stairs that led to Albert's room. As she neared the corner, she heard a sharp clicking sound.

It was a very brief warning, but it was enough to make her Rooder instincts order her to throw herself back, so hard she tripped and fell on her rear. A stream of acid swished through the air an inch from where she just stood.

Alyssa scrambled back as the deadly liquid splashed to the floor and splattered the walls, making the old wood and worn wallpaper sizzle and crackle like it was on fire. Another set of clicks sounded, followed by a chuckle as the Subordinate rounded the corner, shaking the slender tube in his hand. His voice was strange and unpleasant to hear; it wasn't low and raspy like the voice of Morris, but it came muffled and distorted as it passed through the mask he wore. She didn't know what was more disturbing—the distortion, or knowing that without it he would sound completely human and normal.

He chuckled again. "Scared you, didn't I?"

Alyssa didn't reply as she jerked up to one knee and unleashed her own spray of deadly fluid. She bolted to her feet and took off running in the direction of the dining room as shouts of pain echoed behind her. She burst through the dining room doors and made a beeline for the phony fireplace, knowing that he would never be able to follow with all his clunky equipment. She crawled through the ashes and mounted the ladder in record time.

In Albert's room, she wasted no time locating and unlocking the red toolbox. As she sifted through the stack of tools inside she found herself wondering, with a touch of wry humor despite her grave situation, if her next journey through time would also include a tool hunt. Not that she particularly wanted to do this again.

With one eye on the door, she fumbled around for a minute more before unearthing a hexagonal wrench. It was a little heavy, but she managed to tuck it snugly into her inner jacket pocket before slinking out into the hall. Hoping that her pursuer was still lurking around in the dining room, she hurried downstairs and out the back door again.

Alyssa wished the rain would stop already. It wasn't raining as hard as before, but it was enough to soften the sound of her feet as she moved across the saturated ground. If she was having trouble hearing her own footsteps she doubted she would hear anyone sneaking up on her, a thought that did nothing to comfort her as she began mounting the stairs.

It wasn't until she was almost to the landing did she remember something, something so important she could have kicked herself for forgetting it. Subordinates were able to teleport around at will. It didn't matter if she had left him behind—he could pop out in front of her at any time.

As if on cue, the door to the storage room swung open. Not with a thunderous bang, like usual, but with a slow, deliberate speed. It was in this same manner that Haigh came swaggering into view, clicking his weapon as he approached. He didn't need to try and rush to catch her off guard; he had caught her in a position she couldn't get out of without getting hurt, and he knew it.

"You could always jump," the Subordinate suggested as he moved to the top of the stairs, effectively blocking her path.

Alyssa had already been thinking that. The only way out now was to either jump back down the stairs or over the side, and either choice carried a high risk of breaking something. But if she didn't move quickly, she was going to get a healthy dose of acid.

"Or," Haigh added, in the same casual manner, "you could just come along now and we can end this silly pursuit. All the same to me, really. Though I'll probably scorch you a bit along the way, just for fun."

He spoke as if he were inviting her to take a stroll down the beach, and playfully warning her that he might toss sand at her, or push her into the water.

Alyssa unconsciously squeezed the railing as her heart and mind raced. She hadn't forgotten that Morris also wanted to take her somewhere, but she couldn't begin to imagine where or why. And then it hit her; the Subordinates needed her for something, and that something was going to happen when she turned fifteen. This was exactly what her mother had been trying to protect her from.

A great way to repay her efforts, walking straight into danger like this. Alyssa knew she had no chance of attacking him. He already had his weapon drawn and pointed squarely at her, and her own was still tucked under her belt. Jumping was out of the question—so she did the only other thing she could think of. She ran, and ran wildly, practically throwing herself back down the stairs in the hopes that her speed and erratic movements would keep him from making a clear shot.

It almost worked, but just as her feet hit ground again, Alyssa felt a pain in her right shoulder. It was dull at first, and for a moment she thought she must have banged it against the railing, but then the pain deepened, as if tiny flames were searing across her skin. A strangled cry escaped through her tightly clenched teeth as a feeling of fire and needles spread over her shoulder and partway down her arm. She didn't stop to look at the damage as her feet pounded madly on the wet ground, but she thought she smelled something like burning flesh over the damp smell of the rain.

Mind fogged by pain and fear, Alyssa's eyes focused on a single thing as the sound of crazed laughter sounded overhead—or was it behind her?—the door directly in front of her. Injured arm tucked to her chest like a crooked wing, she stretched out her other hand and grappled for the knob, slick from the rain, and pushed. She continued to push for several wasted seconds before she figured out that the door pulled open. With a desperate glance over her shoulder—the killer had descended the stairs and was closing in rapidly behind her—she yanked the door open and threw herself inside the house.

Only she wasn't in the house. In her fear and haste she had run straight into the outhouse instead. Alyssa stared blankly at the dirty toilet for half a moment before letting out a breath of defeat—and aggravation.

_You stupid girl..._

She wasn't sure who was more annoyed—her Rooder self, or her normal, everyday self, who once prided herself on being clear-headed and sensible.

There was nothing sensible about the position she had just placed herself in. There was no way out except the way she came in, and the door was already vibrating behind her back as the killer pounded on it.

"Come on out," he cried jovially. He laughed insanely between pounds, sounding like he was quite enjoying himself.

If they made headlines about this sort of thing, she could just imagine how this one would look: 'Rooder Captured in Bathroom.' The warrior women who came before her were probably shaking their heads in disgust that very moment.

No. She wasn't going to give up. She was just going to have to run, and run hard. He would probably tackle her, or spray her good as she tried to get by, but maybe she could, somehow, get her own weapon out and...

There was no time to think about it. The old, weather-beaten door was splintering under the force of the assault—it sounded like he was kicking now—and if she was going to act, it had to be now. Bracing herself, she reached for the knob with her left hand and pressed her right hand against the shuddering wood. She took a deep breath, gathered every last bit of strength she had left and shoved through the door with all her might.

She vaguely heard a startled yell and a crashing behind her as she ran with all she had towards the stairs. It wasn't until she was half-way up the steps did she realize that the night had gone quiet all of a sudden—and that she wasn't being pursued.

One hand warily on her belt, Alyssa leaned over the railing a little and looked down at the open outhouse door. She had smashed it open so hard it had pulled loose from the upper hinge. It hung open awkwardly for a moment more, then slowly creaked away from the wall, wobbling as it went.

Alyssa felt a jolt; the undead killer had been hiding behind the door. But as the it moved away, he suddenly slumped forward and landed with a wet thump on the ground, where he lay motionless with his arms and legs twisted at awkward angles.

She had knocked him clean out. Alyssa was so relieved she nearly started laughing wildly—but she squashed down the moment of hysteria and hurried up the stairs. She knew she had to keep moving; this lucky streak she seemed to be having today was going to run out eventually. And so far as she could see, there weren't any places to hide once she used up all the ways to turn the surroundings against him.

"I wish I knew how to summon that bow at will," she muttered aloud, thinking of her grandfather's notes. If she had that, this would all be over in a hurry.

But no, all she had was her little bottle of water, and that only slowed her stalker for a moment. She quickened her pace and hurried down to the fans.

The rusty bolt turned with a loud screech when she urged it with the wrench, but it turned. For a moment she thought she had been wrong and it didn't operate the fans after all, but the one closest to her was beginning to slow. The time between its rotation grew longer and longer, and it swished through the air as soft as a whisper. As she waited for it to stop completely, Alyssa set the wrench on the ground and took a moment to examine her shoulder.

It wasn't as bad as she had been imagining. If he had used the same acid as he had on the Rands, she would have been burned clear down to the bone. But as she tugged at the fresh hole in her sleeve, all she saw was a bright red spot and a little blistering, like she had rested her shoulder on a hot stove. It still hurt terribly and it bothered her to move that arm, but it would eventually heal.

Relieved, Alyssa turned her attention back to the fan. It looked like it could continue to spin at about two rotations per minute for a good while longer, and she didn't have time to wait for that. She carefully brought the heavy blades to a halt with her foot, then dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl. Remembering the killer's habits, she listened both behind and ahead of her as she went down the long narrow tube, but it was hard to hear anything over the noise her hands and shoes made on the corrugated metal.

On the other side of the mock-tunnel was a wide, dirty room that smelled of grime and oil. The walls were metal and the floors were cement, and there was a large machine in the middle of the room, most likely a generator. The red light she had seen from outside was above a door on the northern wall.

A door that had just opened. Alyssa felt her body draw with tension, but she was more annoyed than afraid; didn't these guys take a break even for a second?

Obviously not. He was barreling towards her, his bulky body moving jerkily in his haste. He was quick, but Alyssa imagined he would be even quicker if the heavy smock that protected his legs wasn't in his way. Taking advantage of the open space, she flung a stream of water his way before dodging to the side, putting the generator between them. As his angry and pain-filled screams filled the air, she ran around to the side and raced for the open door.

She slammed it behind her, wanting to give herself all the time she could, but she was at a disadvantage. She was in an unknown area and she had no idea if there would be any way to slow him down up ahead, or somewhere she could hide for the time being.

There wasn't time to worry about it, and she ran down a set of brick steps—and almost slipped and fell clear over the edge of the brief walkway at the bottom, where the excess water from the storm was rushing by in a little channel.

Alyssa quickly backed away and looked around for a way across. There was a small footbridge to her right and she ran across it—only to find herself faced with another chainlink fence. There was a gate in front of her, but it was locked, and the fence extended to the ceiling, making it impossible to climb over. Behind her she heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening.

Alyssa spun around, ready to throw herself into the channel if she had to, but her eye fell on a better escape route—another door tucked next to the stairway. Alyssa had no way of knowing if it was any safer in there than it was out here, but she hadn't any other options. With a glance at the undead killer on the stairs, she ran through the unknown door, shuddering as the sound of acid hitting the stoney ground behind her reached her ears.

Inside the new room, Alyssa's eyes darted around wildly, searching for a way to defend herself. There was a row of lockers directly in front of her; a table to her left, with the remains of a leftover meal on it; a desk with a pile of books off to the side; a shelf unit and a worn sink in the corner; an electrical box with a switch on the far wall. The dingy light hanging above her head kept flickering.

Alyssa let out a frightened squeak as the door was shoved open, pushing her forward roughly as it struck her in the back. She jerked around and backed away as the killer advanced toward her, laughing his insane laugh. "No escape for you this time," he declared, sounding positively delighted by the concept.

His bold words triggered a thought that hadn't occurred to her before—he _knew_ this area. He had lived here before his death and he had probably studied it carefully afterward as he looked for his next victim. There were only a limited amount of places she could go and he knew where all of them were. Outrunning him or hiding from him was impossible; her only hope was to evade him for as long as she could.

As he continued to draw nearer while she pressed her back against the cold brick wall, she wondered her chances had finally run out.

Haigh was laughing again and shaking his weapon. He was probably going to douse her good to immobilize her, so she wouldn't be any trouble while he dragged her away to wherever he planned to take her. His feet sloshed on the floor as he continued to approach.

Sloshed? Alyssa tore her eyes from her impending doom and looked down. There was water on the floor, leaking in through cracks in the walls. It trickled along like little streams across the cement, pooling around the killer's feet. Alyssa stared hard in the dim light; there was some kind of black cord on the ground. It looked like it had been cut.

Alyssa looked up at the lever near her head; could it possibly...?

It seemed too much to hope for, but she reached up and tried to push the lever. It was pointing downwards so she knew she had to push it up to turn it on—unless it as already on and the power had shorted out—but it was just out of her reach. In desperation she gave a jump and the switch popped up with a click.

The cord jumped and sparked to life like a burst of blue flame. Showers of sparks popped into the air like someone had set off a box of fireworks.

Haigh didn't have a chance to scream. His body jerked back as forks of blue light coursed through him with an ear-popping crackle. Alyssa shrunk against the wall and shielded her eyes as the vibrant flashing continued, until Haigh teetered back and fell to the floor with a dull thump. Sparks of electricity continued to dance across his prone form a moment longer and then all was still.

Alyssa hesitated a moment more before leaping over the body and rushing out of the room. Outside, she looked up and down the channel for a way out. Past the little bridge was a crumbling set of stairs that led down to a muddy patch of earth just above the water. There was nothing beyond that—except a narrow ledge running along the wall.

Crossing it was risky and unnecessary business—if she hadn't known that there was a grate at the end of the channel. A grate with a shawl stuck to it. Alyssa was tired and her sore body was asking for a rest, but she pushed her back against the wall and started sidling along the ledge. It was a slow process and she kept casting nervous glances at the steps, but Haigh didn't appear.

After what felt like an hour, Alyssa reached a wider area she could stand on normally. Her weary legs begged for her to take a breather, but she stood on her toes and reached up to the grate above her head. The water pouring through it was so cold her hand felt like it had been struck, but she felt around until she grasped something soft. She gave a tug and Dorothy's shawl pulled free.

It was soaked and dirty and Alyssa could only hope it would be enough. She gave it an absent shake before tucking it into her skirt pocket, which was soaked already anyway. The ledge she was standing on passed under the grate and connected to the other side of the channel. Instead of being the size of her foot, the walkway here was several feet wide, and the chainlink fence ran between her and the icy water as she made her way back to the locked gate. As she neared it she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She couldn't hear a thing over the roar of the water, but she instinctively spun around. Haigh was climbing out of the channel onto the walkway, like a sea-beast oozing onto land.

_Oh no you don't,_ thought Alyssa. _Not this time_.

She waited until he was in range before splashing him with holy water. While he bellowed at the top of his lungs, she tugged the lock open and ran through the gate. She made it across the bridge, up the stairs and back into the generator room before the undead killer caught up with her.

"You can't get away from me, little girl," Haigh yelled as he lunged for her.

"Yes I can," Alyssa shot back as she knocked a row of metal rods that were leaning against the wall over. Haigh leaped back as they clattered and rolled at his feet. "I can do better than that," she added fearlessly. "If you don't leave me alone this very second, I'll stop you for good."

She knew the moment had come. Just like Morris, she had found something that would bring peace to his source of power, eliminating it on him. He would kill her to stop that from happening.

"You're going to die anyway," the Subordinate said, laughing as always as he kicked the rods aside. "You'll just be dying a little sooner than planned."


	16. Chapter 16: A Light in the Darkness

**Chapter 16: A Light in the Darkness**

It happened the same way as before. A golden light appeared and carved arcane symbols around her feet and vanished in almost the same instant, but it was enough to make her enemy quail in fear. Alyssa didn't know where the mysterious light came from, or how the glass bottle twisted itself into the shape of the pale blue bow; was it her own power, or power lent to her from Rooders past?

She wasn't sure just where the strange power that flowed out of her and into the bow came from, either, but the same calm she felt the last time she held it flowed over her as she raised the glass bow and pointed it at her enemy. He growled and raised his own weapon, only to recoil with a pain-filled holler as a ball of light struck him, sparking like golden electricity.

Alyssa soon formed a strategy of getting a shot off and then running to the safety of the other side of the generator. It wasn't easy; he seemed to move quicker the madder he got, and by the time she had struck him several times he was seething with rage.

"Enough of these games," he cried out, pointing at her again.

Alyssa quickly took to her heels, dodging to what she thought was a safe distance away—but instead of waving the rod and releasing a mist-like spray like he usually did, he tugged a switch on the side and a stream like water from a hose came firing out at her. Alyssa was so surprised she barely had time to throw herself to the ground. She instinctively covered her head and held still as she hoped that the acid didn't sprinkle her back as it arced over her.

She didn't move until she heard the faint sizzle of the acid hitting the far well. Unscathed, she quickly lifted her head—just in time to see her enemy diving at her, arms outstretched. She rolled to the side as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as it grazed the coarse ground. Her attacker landed on his round belly and bounced in place for a moment, giggling like a crazed child as he stretched out his gloved hands. Alyssa pulled her ankles out of his reach and got to her feet with a sound of revulsion.

Instead of getting up, Haigh waved his weapon at her from where he was, forcing her to back away even further as acid spurted and splattered across the dusty concrete floor. By the time he decided to get up, Alyssa had prepared and fired off another shot, making him roar in pain and fury again.

Alyssa could see that he was weakening rapidly. Like Morris before him, curls of black smoke were seeping through his torn clothes, and his movements grew increasingly slow and jerky. Alyssa's own energy felt stronger than ever, and she again ran, exhilarated, to the other side of the generator.

As she waited for Haigh to scurry into range, she prepared another arrow of light. The more excited she grew, the more 'kick' the arrows seemed to have, as if her mental energy was giving them a boost. Concentrating hard, she focused all her thought on the spot between her fingers and continued to wait. The golden energy cupped in the curve of the bow sparkled and crackled wildly, brighter and more vibrant than ever.

As the undead killer scuttled nearer, his breath ragged, Alyssa hesitated. She knew she shouldn't wait, not when he was so dangerously close, but she wanted to hold the energy just a little longer. Just a second more and it would all be over, she was sure of it. Unless her brief pause gave enough window for him to unleash a fresh wave of acid—then it really _would_ be over. Seeing her hesitation, Haigh raised his weapon with another insane laugh.

And then something happened neither of them expected. The nozzle jammed.

"Damn it!" Haigh snarled as he furiously shook the metal rod, trying to clear it.

_This is it!_ the voice inside her cried. The energy sparking between her fingers felt like it was coursing through her very veins, warming her to the core and wiping away every last shred of fear and doubt. With her head held high and her bow poised with all the grace and strength of an Amazon princess, she called out what she knew were her last words to her undead foe. "You'll never hurt another soul ever again."

Haigh had been knocking the clogged nozzle on the floor, but her words made him jerk up with a start. Alyssa imagined his face was horrified behind his mask as the sphere of energy, larger and brighter than any of the others, flew towards him like a flaming comet. Haigh tried to dodge, but it was too late; the blast struck him squarely in the chest and erupted into a wild spray of white light that seemed to engulf his entire body.

Alyssa, eyes squinted from the brightness, stared in awe. The crackling energy hadn't just surrounded him—it was somehow holding him in place, like a tether. Haigh struggled and hollered and thrashed about, but it was as if he was rooted to the floor. Her heart pounding so fast she couldn't tell one beat from another, Alyssa raised her bow one last time.

With her enemy ensnared, the energy seemed to explode from her fingers. A tingling sensation flared through her arms clear to her elbows as the final arrow of light shot out from the bow. Twisting like a spiral, the arrow sailed through the air and struck its target with a fiery burst of gold and white. Blinded for a moment, Alyssa shielded her eyes and listened to Haigh's harsh screams as his body was torn apart. As the light faded, so did what was left of the Subordinate, leaving behind only a faint wisp of smoke that soon faded away like a mist in the breeze.

Warmth on her palm made her look down. To her surprise the bow was melting like candle wax, and the next thing she knew she was clutching the ornate blue bottle. She tucked it back under her belt again, ready and waiting for the next time it was needed.

The exhilaration and adrenaline of battle left her in a rush and her knees nearly buckled as she staggered over to Haigh's final resting place. The floor beneath where he had stood was still smoking faintly and—just as she had suspected—there was an object about the size of her thumbnail lying on the concrete, an object made of sterling silver and shaped like a heart. Alyssa felt numb inside as she picked it up and placed it in her pocket with the other one.

All she needed were two more pieces and the pendant would be complete. As she walked slowly back to the wall with the fans, a series of thoughts began to form in her mind—thoughts she didn't like.

Were the other two pieces in the hands of two more Subordinates? She didn't want to face any more. And she really didn't want to think about how or why they each had a piece of her mother's pendant. That train of thought was a dangerous one and she wasn't ready to follow it just yet.

Outside, the rain had lightened to a faint drizzle. Alyssa's clothes, mostly dried during her frenzied battle, began to dampen again, and although she ached clear down to her bones she hurried up the stairs and back inside the Rand's home, but not out of desire to get away from the rain.

The back hall was quiet except for the faint sound of Dorothy crying to herself. Alyssa carefully tested the doorknob, and when it didn't jerk or buzz or do anything else out of the ordinary, she turned it slowly and pushed the door open.

The room that had served as Dorothy's prison was small and dark, with no furnishing except for a small table, a chair and an old ironing board. Dorothy was seated in the chair, face buried in her worn hands and sobbing quietly. Alyssa reached into her skirt pocket and was surprised to feel that the shawl was dry and soft. She pulled it out and saw that the colors were bright and clean again, no longer stained with rainwater.

Dorothy lifted her head when she felt Alyssa gently drape the shawl around her shoulders. For a moment her face was pinched with fear and confusion—but then her eyes opened, bright and wide with astonishment.

"I can see," she whispered, amazed.

Alyssa stayed quiet as she smiled and stepped to the side. This moment wasn't for her. She could already hear the sound of Albert's footsteps as he rushed down the hall. A moment later he burst in, his own eyes brimming with tears. "Mother?"

With a joyous cry, Dorothy ran to and embraced her son. For a moment they clung to each other and wept, but the tears soon faded. The pair was smiling the smile of inexpressible gratitude.

"Saying thank you isn't nearly enough," said Albert, "but it's all we can do."

"It's more than enough," Alyssa said quickly.

They were already beginning to fade. Hands raised in farewell, mother and son left their torment behind forever, memories of their dark time already forgotten. Alyssa watched until they were gone, waving in return, before nervously clenching her hand at her side. She thought she might faint again and wake up back in her own room, but nothing happened.

Nothing to her, anyway. The room itself suddenly began to look strange. The walls were receding as though someone were pushing them back and the floor beneath her feet was rippling like water. Reflex made her back away, eyes darting around for a safe spot to run to, but there was nothing she could do. The room continued to shift and warp around her, expanding and brightening. The hardwood floor melted into black and white tile, and a staircase grew in front of her, sprouting up step by step as it stretched to meet a balcony that appeared in the air above her head. Mauve carpet slid up the steps like a ribbon.

When the world finally stopped shifting and the room became whole, Alyssa let out her breath and sagged with stunned relief; she was back in the entryway of her own home. The polished floor and elegant railing had never looked so beautiful.

As if sensing the new surrounding, every cell in her body started screaming for her to sit down already. Alyssa looked up the stairs at the level above. If she could somehow drag herself up the steps, her room was right around the corner. Just picturing the trip made her slump over further, and her weary bones almost groaned audibly.

The lodger's section of the ground floor wasn't any closer than her bedroom, but she didn't have to climb any stairs to get to it. She wanted to head to the nearest bathroom to find something to treat her shoulder with, and if she went upstairs she would have to go all the way down the hall to the one near her mother's room. Plus she had an open invitation to drop by whenever she wanted, so she moved around the base of the staircase and entered the door the led to the guest wing.

As she passed by the open door that led into Edward's room, she only needed to pause for a second to see that he wasn't around. Disappointed, Alyssa moved on; she had been hoping she might talk to him about everything she had just seen and experienced—or at the very least ask him where the bathroom was. With no one around to point her in the right direction, she was forced to wander up and down the hallway, opening and closing doors until she found a small, square room with a toilet, sink and squat cupboard.

After a brief search in the cupboard she found a tube of cream used to treat burns, which she rubbed liberally on her aching shoulder. As she left her jacket on the corner of the sink to give the cream a chance to absorb into her skin, she found herself looking at her own reflection in the oval mirror hanging on the wall. Her face looked pale and tired and her hair was a tangled mess, but her eyes were surprisingly wide and bright. As she peered closer at the glass her gaze fell on a wash rag folded next to the soap dish; she dampened it and began wiping her face.

As she rubbed the dust and grime off her cheeks, she had to squint to see. It was strange—the lights were on, but the room seemed darker than it should be, as if the light were filtering through a haze. It felt oddly cold, too, and she pulled her jacket back on with a shiver.

Back out in the hall, she felt like she wasn't alone, but when she checked Edward's room again, the young blonde still wasn't around. She wasn't ready for something else to happen, especially not in her own home. She looked up and down the hall, eyes still straining against the unnatural dimness, but there wasn't anything wrong. Nothing visibly wrong, anyway; her Rooder instincts were on edge, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Shivering again, she stepped into the empty bedroom and closed the door.

She didn't have the energy to explore the house for unseen threats, and she certainly didn't have the strength to fight if there really _was_ something lurking about. Not only that, she was growing a little worried about Edward. She hoped he would come back while she rested here for a little while before she went searching for the source of this new malaise, and for clues to what she should do next.

The light inside the little room didn't seem hindered or strained, and her eyes soon relaxed again as she looked around. Everything looked as it had the last time she had visited—except for a scrap of paper resting on the bed near the pillow. Alyssa sat on the bed—she could practically hear her legs thanking her—and picked up the paper. As she suspected, it was another news clipping.

This time there was no mention of murder, or of Jennifer Simpson. It was a brief article about an aristocratic couple who had suddenly gone missing. Police had no leads, but friends and family had their suspicions. The couple had recently come into a great sum of money from a relative that had recently passed, and their opinion was the carefree young couple had suddenly decided to sever all ties and move abroad. This included abandoning a young boy they had only just adopted, and had since been taken in by a coworker.

The article had been cut out of the middle of the paper, so there was no headline or date. Alyssa didn't need either to know why Edward had kept it, and as she set it down on the nightstand something that hadn't occurred to her before suddenly clicked in her mind. With her eyes on the door, Alyssa folded her hands in her lap and waited for Edward to appear. As the minutes ticked by, Alyssa felt her eyelids droop heavier and heavier, until she was fighting to keep them open. To say nothing of keeping her head up; as she battled to keep it up off her chest, she was beginning to worry she would lose her balance and tumble clear off the bed if she didn't lay down and rest already.

_Just for a minute,_ Alyssa told herself as she rested her head on the pillow. Her eyes closed and colors flashed and pooled behind her lids. The colors kept twisting and melding together, until she saw glimpses of faces. The faces that had chased her through the darkness; Morris and his hammer, Haigh and his mask and maniacal laugh. Amidst them she saw a shadow that was the face she had seen in the dining room, his smile shining evilly from beneath his hat.

Alyssa heard laughter, though the smile didn't move. "Soon," a deep voice whispered from somewhere close to her.

She bolted up with a gasp. Heart pounding, her eyes darted around the small room to make sure she was still alone.

She wasn't. The chair next to the bookcase was occupied by a young blonde with a book propped on his knee. She must have made a sound of surprise, because Edward looked up from the page, one eyebrow cocked. "Well, hello to you too, sleepyhead."

Alyssa laughed a little as she patted her thundering heart. "Sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

Edward lowered his eyes to his book again. "Not surprising," he said as he turned a page. "When I got here you looked like you were getting ready to enter coma territory."

Blinking in surprise, Alyssa stretched out her stiff limbs, making her joints pop. She could have sworn she had only closed her eyes for a moment. Although she _did_ feel worlds better now. "Was I asleep long?" she wondered as she combed her fingers through her tangled hair.

The slender boy shrugged, not taking his eyes away from his book. "Not sure. I think I came in a half hour ago, but I wasn't really watching the clock. Not that I can," he added wryly.

As he spoke, his eyes flicked briefly to a shelf on the bookcase. Alyssa looked, too, and saw a boxy alarm clock being used to prop up the small stack of books. It was digital and ran on batteries. The face was lit up, but the numbers were an unreadable jumble, like someone was holding down the reset button.

Perched pensively on the edge of the bed, Alyssa closed her eyes and felt around the room with her senses. The small space was quiet and warm, the most peaceful space she had been in since she came home. But there was still that lingering feeling that something just wasn't 'right'. The feeling grew worse as she pushed her senses out of the room and into the hall, where the air was cold and the lights strained behind some invisible shield.

She opened her eyes again. "Edward," she began quietly, not sure she should voice her thoughts. "Have you noticed anything...strange going on in this house?"

When Edward didn't reply, Alyssa stole a glance at him; he had closed his book and was tapping the spine against his chin. "Well, that depends. If by 'strange' you are referring to the fact the phones don't work, anything electrical has gone haywire, you can't hear the sounds of birds or traffic or anything else from outside even if you open a window, and the fact that everyone who lives here up and vanished all at once..."

He set the book down and looked at her, his face grimly serious. "Yes, Miss Hamilton. I think something strange is going on in this house."

Alyssa nodded somberly, but inside she was sighing with relief. _At least it's not all in my head..._

"Can you remember when things started to seem odd?" she asked, though even before the question had formed in her mind, she knew she had the answer.

Edward continued to look grim as he got to his feet. "I sure can. It was right after that guy in the coat showed up. Coincidence? I think not."

Alyssa nodded again, eyes unseeing as she thought back to her own meeting with the man in black. Deep down, she had somehow known he was involved in all of this. She just didn't know how—yet.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your, um, bed," she said as she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs protested a little at having her full weight put back on them, but they held. "Hang on a minute," said Edward with a stern frown.

Alyssa paused in the doorway. "Yes?" she asked, frowning a puzzled frown in return.

Edward held her gaze for several seconds more before his face broke out in a mischievous grin. "You promised me a full report, remember?"

"Oh." Alyssa felt a smile spread across her own face. "Right."

As she turned away from the doorway, her skirt brushed the nightstand, making the forgotten news article flutter to the floor. Alyssa bent to retrieve it, and when she straightened again Edward's grin had been replaced with a curious look. The look grew as he watched Alyssa reread the article to herself before meeting his gaze again. "This is you, isn't," she said, her voice coming out as a statement instead of a question. "You're the boy they left behind."

Edward gave a shrug and slid his long hands into his jacket pockets. "It's like I told you when we met: I've been bounced from orphanage to foster home and back again for most of my life. I still need a roof over my head, but at my age I'm officially done with surrogate families."

He gave another shrug, as if dismissing the subject. Alyssa absently wet her lips as she thought about how to voice what was on her mind. She was positive she was correct about the connection she had made earlier—a part of his past he had failed to mention—but she wasn't sure how to bring it up. "That other boy was you, too," she finally blurted, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

Edward's smooth brow furrowed a little as he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Which boy?"

Alyssa passed her gaze over the floor at their feet, where the newspaper clippings had been spread earlier that day. "The one who escaped from that mansion. With Jennifer."

When she looked at him again, his expression had smoothed. He turned away, nonchalant, and sat down in the chair again. "Yes, that was me, too. The only other who survived the horrors of Barrows Mansion—but in the end I was the only one to survive, period, wasn't I."

He spoke casually, but Alyssa could tell by the look in his half-closed eyes that he was sad that Jennifer wasn't with him. Sad and lonely.

But that wasn't why she sat down and eagerly began telling him about her time in West Sussex. She told him all about John Haigh, the Acid Bath Murderer, and about Albert and Dorothy Rand and how he had continued to torment them. Omitting nothing, she talked about how she had run from Haigh's relentless pursuit, about how she had figured out that the Subordinates needed her for something—even about the ghostly vision of her mother in the courtyard.

She told him everything because she knew he _understood_. He knew firsthand what it was like run and hide in the darkness, to have some malicious force breathing down his neck. By his own admission, he had already had his own taste of the supernatural. Aside from her own family, he understood what she was going through like no one else could. She felt extremely grateful that he was around for her to share everything with—and that he believed everything she told him without question, no matter how wild it sounded.

By the time she reached the part where the had somehow pinned Haigh in place, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her shoes discarded on the floor. Edward had moved the chair closer and was straddling it like a rider on a horse. Elbows propped on the back of the chair and chin in his hands, he listened with almost rapt attention as she described how, after giving the shawl back to Dorothy, she was somehow transported home.

"I wonder if I somehow do that myself, or if the Subordinate's power collapsing forces me back," she mused.

Edward gave an absent shrug, his eyes distant. He stared off into space a moment longer before focusing on her with a grin. "See? I said you were special. You were born for this sort of thing."

Alyssa gave a modest shrug, but she was glad her Rooder instincts were so strong. She knew she would never have gotten so far without them.

Although, she thought with a frown, she wasn't sure where to go from here. When she said so out loud, Edward promptly replied, "Your mother's out there somewhere, isn't she?"

"Yes, but..."

She didn't consider leaving the house an option. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't believe she could find her mother if she went outside to look for her. But she also believed there weren't any secrets left in the house for her to find. What she needed to find now was...

She got slowly to her feet and slid her shoes back on. "I need to go find...him," she murmured.

"Oh, you mean Mister Dark Man. Good, this weirdness is getting on my nerves."

Alyssa looked at him in surprise; there didn't seem to be much that could shake his sunny demeanor, but he again had his hands shoved in his pockets, and his grim frown had returned to his downcast face. He caught her stare when he looked up again and guessed what she was thinking. "I don't like things that I can't control," he told her, his smile tight.

Taken by an impulse that surprised her, Alyssa tossed her head and said playfully, "You can't control _me_."

Edward's smile grew tighter, and something flashed in his pale eyes. "Can't I?"

He stepped closer, reached up and cupped her chin in his hand. With his other he lightly pushed her hair off her forehead and slowly traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. As he caressed her face he slowly leaned forward, until she felt the touch of his breath. She started to open her mouth, but right then she was too busy trying to get her heart to stop fluttering so wildly to form a comprehensive sentence. Why hadn't she noticed until now just how handsome he was?

Edward seemed pleased with her tongue-tied reaction, and his blue eyes danced as he leaned closer, putting his lips near her ear. "Take me with you," he whispered.

Alyssa jerked back, her mouth hanging open. "_What_?"

"You heard me. I'm tired of loafing around. I want to see these Subordinates for myself."

"Are you mad?" Alyssa cried before she could stop herself.

Edward just grinned. "Probably. Definitely. Is that a yes?"

"No! Even if it were possible to take another person with me—and I don't even know that it is—it's much too dangerous. I can barely defend myself, let alone-"

"I can handle myself, Miss Hamilton," Edward cut in smoothly.

Alyssa frowned hard at him, frustrated. She wanted to believe he was just joking—badly, but still joking—but he was keeping his expression controlled and neutral...though his blue eyes danced a little.

"Maybe so, but you've never met an Entity before, Mister...Mister..."

She frowned again, brow furrowed. "What's your last name?"

The dancing eyes grew icy. He turned away. "I don't have one. There's no family out there that'll have me, and my real one has been gone so long they don't matter anymore. I've been just Edward for years, and I'll be just Edward until I die."

He laughed strangely. "Whenever that will be."

Alyssa continued to frown at his back. If he was trying to change the subject, it wasn't going to work. "You said so yourself—this is _my_ journey. Just mine."

"Yes, but I said that before I was bored out of my mind."

Annoyed, Alyssa opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly closed it again. Edward still had his back to her, and had picked up his book and was leafing through it again. She hesitated only a second before she backed out of the room. As she moved silently down the hall and back out to the entryway, she felt a little guilty about running away without saying goodbye, but if he was determined to come with then this was for his own good.

As she moved around the stairs and stepped on to the ornate rug that decorated the tiled floor, the young boy left her mind and was forgotten; someone was standing on the landing above her, someone chuckling in a way that sent chills down her spine.

"We meet again, dearest Alyssa," the man in black said, his wide grin far more evil-looking than it had been in her dream. "At long last, we meet again."


	17. Chapter 17: The Tower Rises

**Chapter 17: The Tower Rises**

"I'm impressed," the dark man said as he began to slowly descend the stairs. "You've already faced two of my Subordinates and defeated them both. As I've always suspected, the Rooder strain in your blood is a particularly strong one."

As he continued down the stairs, moving as calmly and casually as can be, Alyssa backed away. Her hand was already on her belt, ready to whip the glass bottle out, but she was hesitant to try it.

Despite the sinister air that surrounded him, he didn't have the same energy that a Subordinate possessed. Of all things he felt _human_, but at the same time there was something undeniably evil about him, an evil so strong it seemed to fill the space that surrounded him, like a stench drifting off the surface of a swamp.

Her hand tightly clutching the bottle, Alyssa continued to back away, ready to splash him at any moment. Even if he was—as impossible as it seemed—a living, breathing human being, if he was full of evil the touch of the water would sting him...right?

She never got the chance to find out. The dark man reached the bottom of the stairs, his cane clacking on the tile. With a flash of his evil grin, he waved his hand at her—and a blast like a powerful burst of wind struck her, knocking her clear off her feet.

Alyssa let out a startled cry and shut her eyes tight as she waited helplessly for her body to land painfully back on the floor, or worse, bounce off one of the walls—but the blow never came. She continued to feel like she was falling, tumbling over and over again, as a sound like thunder surrounded her on all sides. She realized with horror that it wasn't thunder—it was an explosion.

She let out a yelp as she suddenly landed on something hard. She lay still for a stunned moment before quickly pushed herself into a sitting position. She could barely see through the whirling winds that still surrounded her, but she could make out what looked like the last of the walls of her home crashing down around her as they were torn apart by some unseen force.

Her eyes barely had a chance to process this sight—a sight that just couldn't be real—before her vision was filled with an endless sea of blue streaked with swirls of white. The ground beneath her shuddered and swayed, but she managed to stand. Looking down, she was astonished to see that she wasn't standing on the ground at all, but on a circular disk—the face of a clock, to be exact. She stepped over the massive hands and went to stand near the edge. And was astonished even further; the expanse of blue surrounding her was the night sky, and the swirls of white were clouds.

_This isn't happening_, she told herself. The blast must have knocked her out and she was dreaming. She couldn't possibly be standing on a floating clock face that was magically soaring through the sky like some wingless bird.

The clock face shuddered and she dropped to her knees, desperately grabbing one of the hands as the disc spun around wildly. Her vision hazy with tears as the harsh wind stung her eyes, she vaguely saw the shape of what looked like a giant staircase spirally around her, rising higher and higher above her as if it were reaching for the heavens.

The disc wasn't following. Instead, it spun through a large hole in one of the white walls that had risen from nowhere, tossing her back outside into the night. The disc stopped spinning again, and Alyssa got shakily back to her feet as she stared at what was before her in awe.

_What is this place?_

A great tower of white and gray stone had sprung up out of the ground—right where her house had once been, to be exact. Alyssa watched, amazed, as pieces of rock and brick floated through the air, meeting and melding with the tower as it continued to climb higher and higher. Alyssa watched a moment longer before closing her eyes. _It's just a dream_, she told herself again. Maybe if she fell...

The disc beneath her feet suddenly wobbled sharply, making her gasp and reach down to seize one of the hands again. She didn't want to believe she was awake, but after all she had seen and done she couldn't take the chance that she wasn't. Clinging tightly to the minute hand, she watched as the clock face flew closer to the tower, careening towards a large round hole near the top.

Alyssa's heart dropped; it wasn't just any tower. It was a clock tower, and the clock face she was sitting on was turning upright so it could fit into place inside the large hole. Her hands, numb with fear, desperately clawed at the face as she was tipped further and further back, but it was no use. Her fingers slipped and she dropped into the air.

A picture of herself falling for miles before hitting the ground had barely formed in her mind before her back struck what felt like a stone floor littered with pebbles. "Ouch," she hissed. She rolled to her side and winced as she pressed a hand to her now sore lower back. With her other hand, she pushed herself to her feet as she looked at her new surroundings.

She had been dropped at the top of the spiral staircase, which opened up to a wide, circular platform with gleaming white pillars holding up a domed ceiling that was still taking shape. The spaces between the pillars were dotted with crackling torches, and the space beyond them led to open sky.

Alyssa barely had a moment to take all this in when a wicked chuckle behind her made her spin around fearfully. The dark man was coming towards her, the torches casting shadows across his cruel face. "Welcome, dearest Alyssa," he said jovially. "You're in my world, now."

Her first instinct was to run, but there was nowhere to run to, so she held her ground. "Don't come any closer," she warned. "Like you said, I've already defeated two of..."

She trailed off as the man's words repeated in her mind. _Two of my Subordinates..._

_His_ Subordinates? Then he had to be the one controlling them, she was sure of it, but she still didn't believe he was possessed by an Entity. Why in the world would they obey him, then?

Ignoring her warning, the grinning being continued to approach. Alyssa kept backing away, her shoes scuffing on the stone that littered the ground, not yet merged with the tower. "A very special time is coming up," the man was saying. "In just two short hours, the clock will strike midnight, signaling the arrival of your fifteenth birthday. Are you looking forward to it?"

Although she had guessed as much, hearing the words spoken still shocked her. What was so special about her fifteenth birthday? What did these evil beings want her for?

Her thoughts came to a halt as the man suddenly lunged for her. Alyssa shrieked and tried to run, but he hooked her with the crook of his cane. He yanked her closer, grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, cradling her against him as if she were something dear and beloved to him. "I, for one, cannot wait," he cooed. "When that moment finally comes you and I will be joined as one for all eternity. Two souls united in immortality for all time. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"You're insane," Alyssa screamed. She pushed and shoved and kicked, but the wicked man's strength was amazing. He ignored her blows and hoisted her in his arms like she were a doll. "I've waited so very long," he sighed. "These final two hours will be like an eternity all by themselves."

Alyssa continued to thrash and struggle, even though they had moved uncomfortably close to the edge of the stairs. Below them, she could see the spiral twisting down, down, down, so far she couldn't see the bottom. She tried desperately to grab for her bottle of holy water, but her belt had twisted and it hung from a spot at her back, out of her reach. "Your mother worked so hard to keep you from me, to put all those obstacles in my way, but in the end...I win."

Alyssa stopped thrashing at the mention of her mother. "My mother? But she..."

"Is dead," the man finished merrily. "One of my Subordinates killed her ages ago."

"Liar!"

Alyssa reached out to strike him—anything to get him to let go—but he just scowled in response to her outburst. He tilted his arms and Alyssa found herself facing the yawning opening of the spiral staircase. "Don't believe me?" the dark man snarled. "Then go to hell and see for yourself."

As he spoke, he let her drop out of his arms and she fell, screaming, into the space below. Alyssa saw flashes of white steps and silver railings all around her as she careened wildly through the air. Her body twisted around so she was facing downward and she looked, unwillingly, to see how far she would fall before she reached the ground.

Instead of seeing the floor of the tower, she saw a pool of thick blackness. The next instant the blackness had swallowed her whole and the feeling of falling faded. For a time she felt like she was drifting free, weightless, until the world and her senses slowly returned to her.

The first thing she felt was a coldness, followed by the feeling of something hard and rough beneath her. From somewhere nearby she heard a dripping, and when she opened her eyes she saw a puddle of water next to her.

Her head swam a little as she sat up, but her vision was clear enough for her to see that she was surrounded by greenish rock. Stalagmites and stalactites jutted from the floor and ceiling, and her nostrils filled with the smell of stale water and traces of sulfur.

Amazed as she was that she had somehow survived the fall, she was even more amazed to see that she couldn't have possibly fallen into this place; the thick roof of a cave stretched out above her head, with no hint of an opening. Eyes squinted in the dimness, Alyssa slowly scanned her surroundings; faint light was coming from somewhere, so there had to be a way out.

Her mind was still reeling from what had just happened. It _had_ to have been some kind of illusion—her home couldn't have been destroyed any more than a mysterious tower could have popped up in its place. That sort of thing wouldn't go unnoticed—the entire town would be in an uproar in a matter of minutes. No, she must have been, as his words suggested, been torn from her home and the real world and sucked into 'his' world, as he'd called it...wherever _that_ was. If she didn't believe that the house—and Edward, who was the only one still inside—was still okay and started to consider otherwise she knew she'd go crazy.

She told herself that the house would be just as she left it the next time she went back, just like the other times, and began to circle the perimeter of the small space. She soon came across a stone slab embedded in the cave wall; there was a hexagon-shaped symbol etched across it, a symbol she had never seen before, but felt as if she recognized somehow.

It was strange how her Rooder self worked. Her mind knew nothing of these things, but her body seemed to understand and react. She touched the symbol with her fingertips and felt her nerves ease a little. As her mind cleared, she remembered what she had just heard—the last thing the dark man had said before throwing her over the edge.

"It can't be true," she whispered.

Although she had begun to suspect that very thing—that something had happened to her mother—she refused to believe it. She wouldn't accept that she was dead until she saw the body with her own eyes. Even without her Rooder powers her mother couldn't possibly be weak enough to fall so easily. She was out there, somewhere, waiting for her daughter to find her, and Alyssa was determined to do just that, no matter what.

When she turned around again, she saw that the light was coming through a narrow gap in the far wall. It was small and near the ground, but she was able to crawl through it—barely.

She found the source of the light on the other side of the narrow tunnel; a discarded lantern that still flickered faintly. Alyssa stood and looked around, surprised by what she saw.

After waking up in the cave she had been expecting a different environment than the one she now stood in; the wall she had crawled out of was made of brick, and she was standing at the top of a set of cement stairs, with a metal railing for her to lean on as she looked around. The area to her right stretched off into the darkness, but her way was blocked by heavy iron bars.

The area to the left was barricaded in the same way, leaving her with only a small, dimly lit expanse of brick floor to move around in. The floor itself was completely submerged in water that was leaking in through cracks and crevices, and it came up past her ankles as she sloshed along.

In the opposite corner was another short set of steps; at the top of them was a metal ladder. Alyssa gripped the icy rungs and ascended it slowly. The only sound to be heard was the dripping of water, which did nothing to calm her increasingly jittery nerves.

She could only have been sent here for one reason; she was going to face a third Subordinate. Though she felt confident that she knew how to handle them now, she wanted to find something that would help get her get a grasp of where and when she was. Her previous trips through time had offered up various hints that helped her get her bearings, but this dark place offered no hint of where it was located in either time or space.

At the top of the ladder was a trapdoor, which she had to push with both hands to raise. The area above was no better than the one below; it was narrow and the walls were like that of the cave, with florescent bulbs that flickered a dull blue attacked at about waist-level. The floor was hidden beneath a stream of rushing water, which was pouring down from a hole in the wall across from her, forming a small waterfall. There was no floor to walk on, just two narrow catwalks hugging each wall. The two catwalks weren't connected to each other, except near the very top, where she stood, and near the middle where a wider strip of catwalk formed a bridge.

There was also a tank-like machine next to her, quietly spewing steam, but even that didn't help her identify her new time; everything looked anywhere from five to fifty years old.

Alyssa passed in front of the tank, heading to her left. The steam was making it harder for her to see in the already dim light, but she could make out the shape of a narrow hallway directly in front of her. There was also, she noticed, another trapdoor on the other side of the tank, but she didn't see any reason to go back down into the flooded sub-basement.

There was a door at the end of the short hallway—locked, naturally. Undaunted, Alyssa tried the other catwalk and found another short hallway further down. She practically tiptoed as she moved along, though the sound of her own footsteps were lost in the sound of the rushing water. It made her wish she were back by the dripping again; at least there she would be able to hear if a Subordinate was sneaking up on her.

Shivering as the cold mist coming off the surface of the water began to seep through her clothes (didn't Subordinates ever hang out someplace _warm_?) she tiptoed up to another closed door, which opened when she tested the knob.

The room on the other side was small and square—and warmer, to her relief. Directly to her left was a desk with a small pile of books (a brief search told her nothing, though she did find a key with a tag on it), across the room was a table with various odds and ends scattered across it, and bubbling merrily along the right-hand wall was a large aquarium. Swimming inside it was a long fish with wide, thick scales, but its species was unknown to her.

Alyssa looked around a little more, but there wasn't anything else worth her time to be found, so she—reluctantly—went back outside.

As soon as she stepped through the door, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and not from the chill in the air. Her eyes darted up and down the long room, but nothing and no one was in sight. But even without her Rooder instincts it would have been clear to her that something—something very unpleasant—was out there.

She was about to take another step when there was a small splash to her right. Immediately her body froze in place, her eyes darting in the direction of the sound—just in time to see something large and silver flash in front of her face with a metallic whisper. A second later she heard a loud clang.

Alyssa's eyes were on the waterfall. She wasn't sure how, but the object—whatever is was—had come from that direction, so her feet carried her the other way. As she ran across the catwalk in front of the tank, she saw something silver lodged in the side of it—an ax with a wide, curved blade and a glinting handle.

She had almost made it across to the main part of the other catwalk, her hand absently touching the pocket that held the key she assumed opened the other door, when something exploded through the waterfall.

Alyssa instinctively threw herself to the side, making herself slip off the catwalk and land in the shallow but frigid water. Looking up she saw—not something but someone—soar clear over her head, like an Olympic jumper. The being landed where she had just been standing and she watched, the tension in her body growing, as he casually yanked the ax free. There was another ax in his other hand, which he propped against his leg as he rested his foot against the steaming tank. The toes of his other foot were curled around the edge of the catwalk, and Alyssa knew that, despite the relaxed way he held himself, he was poised to leap at her with all the force of a wild cat in an instant.

He didn't look anything like she had been expecting. The previous Subordinates she had faced had been large, bulky, and slow; this one was shorter, but he was also lean. His torso was bare, except for red streaks, like tattoos, that marked his chest and face. Unlike the other two, his head was uncovered and exposed, allowing his white eyes to gleam at her in the dimness as he grinned. And Alyssa knew that, as she watched muscle ripple across his whale-gray skin as he absently twirled one of his axes, she was going to miss being chased by Morris and Haigh.

As if reading her thoughts, this new Subordinate chuckled lowly and said, "You've had it easy up to now, little girl. The others were just practice; whatever you learned from fighting them is meaningless with me."

Alyssa rolled back with a shriek as he abruptly swiped one of the axes at her, narrowly missing her right arm. She crawled frantically out of the water and climbed back onto the catwalk. In her mind her thoughts were racing; maybe this was one Subordinate who didn't care about the order to take her alive. Or maybe, she thought as an ax blow near her head sent chunks of the wall flying, he intended to—he was just going to chop her to bits first, so long as she was still breathing afterward.

Alyssa's feet pounded the metal catwalk; she needed to put more distance between them (the sound of his breath was dangerously close) before she dared to try attacking him. She decided to run into the aquarium room; putting the door between them should give her just enough time to pull her weapon out.

She was still about a foot away from it when she heard a rushing in the air, like something massive was flying over her head again. The next thing she knew, the Subordinate was blocking her way—horizontally.

Defying every natural law she knew, the Subordinate's bare feet clung to the wall like her own feet clung to the floor. Head cocked, his pupil-less eyes flashed as he raised a hand, still holding his ax, and wagged a finger at her like her teachers used to when she was small and getting into mischief. Hands numb and heart pounding, Alyssa came to an unpleasant realization.

Outrunning this one was not an option.


	18. Chapter 18: No Escape

**Chapter 18: No Escape**

As if responding to her need, the glass bottle almost seemed to fly up from her belt as she reached down for it and splashed an arc of water at the being still standing on the wall like a fly. She lunged forward in almost the same instant (there was a particularly impressive roar when the droplets hit) and shoved with all her might. She turned and ran with everything she had as the still steaming Subordinate fell to the floor with a thunderous bang.

Between the pounding of her feet on the metal catwalk and the rush of the water, Alyssa didn't have a prayer of hearing when he got up. She kept on running and turned down the first hallway as she pictured him leaping up and rushing after her. Not daring to look back, she pulled the key out of her pocket and jabbed it into the lock, the glass bottle still tightly clutched in her other hand.

Knowing she didn't have time to think about it, she twisted the key in a random direction and gave the door a hard shove—and to her relief it clicked open.

She gave a glance over her shoulder as she stepped through—and let out a scream as her nose almost bumped the nose of her pursuer. She ducked away from the leering grin and slammed the door in his red-streaked face. It was kicked violently open behind her—she was already racing down the new hallway—and heavy footsteps pounded after her.

"You can't run," the deep, low voice called out to her, coarse in its way but smooth in comparison to Haigh's distorted speech and Morris' growls. "And don't even think about hiding."

Alyssa had been wondering that very thing. Even if she could get away from him long enough to find somewhere to hide, she doubted he was dumb enough to fall for that.

Running was still out of the question, though her legs were moving faster than they ever had in her life; she could tell from the pounding of his feet that the gap between them was rapidly closing, and when she heard the grunt of his breath near her ear she instinctively threw herself to the ground.

A sharp pain in her chest from the impact made her gasp, but she ignored it as the swishing just over her head indicated that she had barely dodged the ax again. Not wasting a moment, she haphazardly swiped her arm behind her, splashing water all over her legs and the floor as she jerked to her feet again.

She almost fell flat on her face. Looking over her shoulder she saw that she had thrown herself down a small set of steps and that her shoe had gotten hooked on one of them. She hastily pulled it loose and used the nearby railing to hoist herself up. The yell of pain sounding behind her was brief and mild (she had probably only nicked him that time) and before she had a chance to let go of the rail she felt something take hold of her jacket. "Not so fast, little girl."

Using the railing for leverage, Alyssa wrenched as hard as she could and took off running again, leaving her jacket behind. There was a frustrated growl followed by a metallic slapping, but it didn't sound like the thick metal her own feet were clunking across.

She had no idea where she was going. The dusty walls and floor muted what little light there was; Alyssa all but blindly followed the railing as the catwalk wound toward her left. To her horror, the curve led to a dead end.

Having no other choice, she turned around again. As she did, she saw out of the corner of her eye that there was a door with a crack in the center of it built into the wall—like an elevator door. She also saw a triangular button near the door and distantly swiped at it—the rest of her attention was on the Subordinate, who was casually running toward her along the railing with all the calmness and ease of a professional tightrope walker.

The door opened with a rusty wheeze and Alyssa darted into the small, square space. The inside of the grimy elevator was lit by a flashing red light that was spinning around and around on the ceiling. Alyssa's darting eyes quickly spotted a keypad; not caring where it sent her, she punched the top button.

Spinning around again, she saw the Subordinate had jumped down from the railing. He had stopped chasing her for the moment and was simply watching her, knowing he couldn't get her now—the doors were already closing rapidly—but the smug look on his face told her that her efforts wouldn't keep him away for long.

As if to punctuate this point, he suddenly raised his arm and threw one of the axes. Though she knew the space was too narrow for the ax to fit through, Alyssa still let out a little squeak of fright as it bounced off the doors, sending sparks through the crack. The doors closed completely an instant later and the elevator shuddered to life. With a ragged breath, Alyssa leaned on the rail next to the keypad and felt along her sore midsection.

A spot on her left side stung sharply, and as she touched it carefully with her fingers the pain made her gasp and clench her teeth. She couldn't be sure, but it felt like her little dive down the steps had fractured a rib.

As the elevator shuddered along its journey, Alyssa returned the bottle to her belt for a moment and rubbed her arms, now bare and exposed. The effects of the salve she had applied to the burn on her shoulder had worn off and the tender skin throbbed a little as the cold air nipped at it. The bandages on her hands were soiled and starting to fray; Alyssa absently wound them again as she tried to remember if there was anything in her jacket aside from the letters she had saved that was important, but she was pretty sure there wasn't anything—she had left the key in the door. She hoped there weren't any more locks.

The elevator stopped shuddering and the doors slid open. Her eyes had adjusted to the near darkness now, and with the glass bottle back in hand, Alyssa stepped cautiously out of the elevator.

The doors closed behind her; she saw B-1 marked on them in faded white paint. Like the floor she had just left, she was standing on a narrow walkway of rusted metal barred with railings. In front of her was another set of stairs, which she made sure to descend carefully this time. The floor below was made of dusty concrete blocks and, also like the previous floor, curved to the left, like a circle. Alyssa proceeded cautiously, knowing that Subordinates could pop up anywhere and at any time.

As if reading her mind, there was a grunt behind her, followed by the slap of bare feet hitting the concrete. Alyssa didn't look behind her as her legs started pumping again, but she could easily picture the ax-wielding Subordinate leaping over the railing—like Dennis used to jump over their neighbor's fence. Only the intentions of the one behind her were much more sinister.

Knowing she couldn't get very far just by running, Alyssa kept a sharp eye out for something she could use against him—anything that would slow him down for a little while. On her right she saw a small set of doors, like a cabinet built directly into the concrete wall; she skidded to a stop and yanked them open.

Alyssa felt like she had been slapped with ice water; except for a few bundles of wire, a couple of grubby cardboard boxes, and a pair of rubber gloves, the cabinet was empty.

In a motion she knew was as pathetic as it was desperate, she whipped the gloves off the shelf and hurled them at her pursuer, who was so close she could feel his breath on her hair. The Subordinate laughed wildly as they bounced harmlessly off his nose. Alyssa started running again—and to her surprise he didn't immediately follow.

A glance over her shoulder showed he was still standing next to the open cabinet, spinning one of his axes so quickly it looked like a silver blur. "Are you looking for a duel, little girl?" he queried, laughter still in his throaty voice. "Very well, then; arm yourself."

Alyssa let out a shriek and dove for the floor as one of the axes came flying her way. She landed with a jolt that sent hot tears to her eyes; if her rib hadn't been broken before, it certainly was now. Above her, the ax ricocheted against the wall, chipping off chunks that pelted the side of her face. Ignoring the pain searing through her chest, Alyssa pushed herself up to her feet again and kept on running, even though her legs were starting to burn and ache from the exertion.

She heard another throaty chuckle, followed by a scratch against the concrete as the Subordinate retrieved his ax and continued his pursuit. Alyssa's heart was pounding so hard and fast it felt ready to burst, but she kept going; there _had_ to be something she could use around the next turn.

A second after this thought passed through her mind she felt another icy jolt, one that left her numb all over; she had come to another dead end.

There was nothing around the turn but a wall, and to the left on the upper level were the elevator doors, safely on the other side of the railing and completely out of reach. In the dimness Alyssa could make out the shape of a lever; with the memory of electrocuting Haigh in her mind she lunged for it and yanked it up and down, but nothing happened. Next to the lever was the red half-circle cover of an LED light; it was dark, indicating that the power was off.

Before Alyssa could so much as let go of the lever, something cold and hard touched the front of her throat—and the next thing she knew the Subordinate was pulling her backwards, the blunt sides of his axes crossed beneath her chin.

Alyssa automatically reached for her belt, but she was yanked back so hard her feet left the floor, making her choke and gasp for air. The glass bottle slipped through her fingers and clattered across the floor. Color spots blurred her vision as her hands grappled for something to grab on to, but it was no use; the railing was at least three feet above her.

"I'm disappointed," said the Subordinate, his chin resting on the top of her head. "After handling the other two the way you did, I was expecting a little more of a struggle."

Choking and gagging, Alyssa clawed and pushed at the blades that were squeezing her throat like ruthless steel fingers, but all she managed to do was make the pressure worse. In desperation she grabbed onto her assailant's wrists—they felt like iron bars as she hung from them—and tried kicking his legs out from under him, but the Subordinate only laughed at her feeble attempts.

Abruptly he gave the crossed axes such a violent twist Alyssa vaguely worried that her head might pop off as spots of red and black spread over her eyes. For a moment they were all she could see, and they brought with them an odd tingling sensation that was almost calming. An instant later a new sensation sent an unpleasant shockwave through her—a sensation like a tear had opened up in her palm. Warm blood started dripping off her fingers; she would have cried out if her windpipe wasn't being crushed. She forced her eyes open wide and was shocked to see that they had somehow moved to the base of the stairs. She must have blacked out for a second—and if the throbbing in her head meant anything, she was in danger of doing it again.

If the idea of passing out in the arms of a Subordinate wasn't awful enough, another thought struck her; if he was able to subdue her enough, would he be able to whisk her away in a swirl of purple light? Was she seconds away from being taken to whatever horror awaited her at midnight, with no hope of escaping?

Alyssa clenched her left fist, digging her nails into the deep gash—she must have cut herself on one of the axes when she passed out briefly—causing spikes of pain to shoot clear up her arm. The pain helped clear her foggy head and sharpen her senses as a single word formed in her mind: _No_.

The Subordinate was still dragging her along, her feet barely touching the ground, and Alyssa was pretty sure he meant to pull her up the steps. She held still for several heartbeats, limp as a dead fish, wanting him to believe she was too weak to struggle anymore. Then she seized his wrists again, threw both her legs out and hooked her toes on the nearby railing.

Surprised, the Subordinate let out an angry grunt and tried to keep her in place, but Alyssa shoved his arms upward and her head slipped free. She dropped to the floor, turned and half-crawled, half-threw herself between the Subordinate's legs. Lying just a foot or so away was the bottle; she dove for it and, before the astonished Subordinate barely had the chance to turn around, tackled him so hard around the waist they both went flying.

Hitting the floor sent another jolt through her side, but Alyssa gritted her teeth and held on. Pushing herself up with her good hand, she raised the glass bottle with the other and drained a healthy dose of holy water all over the Subordinate's unholy face.

She quickly bolted up and tried to back away as he started screaming and thrashing as he clawed at his garish white eyes, but one of his feet shot out as she scrambled for the stairs. Alyssa couldn't bite back a scream as his heel kicked her left side; yes, that rib was definitely broken.

Her breath ragged, she dragged herself up the steps, her eyes on the elevator. But then she saw something she hadn't noticed before; the upper level curved off to the right and extended to another hallway.

Knowing she didn't have time to hesitate, Alyssa made up her mind and shot toward this new area, disregarding the ache in her legs and the stabbing pain in her side. In her mind she was picturing a door at the end of the hall, a door that would lead someplace wider—someplace where she had the advantage and could turn the environment against her pursuer.

Her hopes died in a hurry when she reached this new door; it was locked. Before she could unleash a mental tirade of obscenities at herself for losing the key, her eye fell on the square mechanism on the side of the door where a handle or knob would normally be, taking particular note of the unilluminated band of green in the center. The door was locked electronically and it, like the lever, was without power.

Alyssa rested against the door for a moment as she took a deep, long breath that sent a burning through her left side. Her tired mind scrambled for a way out of the narrow passage unscathed, but this time she was drawing a blank. The sound of footsteps were already drawing near behind her, mixed with a swish-slap sound as the Subordinate casually tossed one of his axes in the air and caught it again. Alyssa briefly considered spinning around and tossing a little water at him, but discarded the idea; he had proven he was more than a little nimble and would probably just dodge, despite the lack of space. Plus her weapon hardly seemed seemed to phase him. Where the previous two Subordinates needed a few seconds to recover, this one all but shrugged it off and was back on his feet in an instant, in spite of his impressive hollering.

Her mind was still trying to come up with ways to escape—she was beginning to think there was no way out of this one—when the Subordinate suddenly laughed and shouted at her.

"Catch!"

Alyssa shrieked and slammed her back against the wall, narrowly dodging the ax that flew over her head and bounced off the door. She had barely recovered from the shock when she received another one; the Subordinate was in the air, looming over her like a bird of prey.

The next few seconds felt like they went by in slow motion. The Subordinate arched above her, ax raised above his head, ready to drop. He was so close Alyssa could the dim light of the dusty florescent bulbs glinting off the sharp edge of the ax. Again disregarding her already battered side, she dove for the floor, rolled underneath him and bolted to her feet in almost the same motion. The next instant time resumed normally; the Subordinate landed with a bang, the impact of his ax against the metal floor echoing like a gunshot.

It wasn't how she had planned to do it—not that she had been able to come up with a plan—but she had passed him and was free to run back to the elevator. Though her lungs burned and the pain in her side was making spots of white burst along the edge of her vision, she raced back around the curve and slammed her good palm against the call button.

She wedged herself inside the elevator before the doors finished opening and scrambled for the keypad; she could her pursuer's footsteps as he flew down the metal path after her. She punched the center button and ducked down, remembering his habit of tossing an ax at her.

But things had suddenly gone quiet. The doors groaned shut behind her and the elevator shuddered into motion. Alyssa slowly turned around and rested her head against the rail.

She wanted a few minutes to gather her thoughts and strength, but the ride was only going to last for a few seconds. And she had barely caught her breath when a thought made her heart skip a beat; could he teleport right into the elevator with her?

She hoped not, but she was helpless if he did. But it seemed like her only haven, brief as it was, since he had stopped chasing her both times she entered it. Maybe he couldn't teleport into something that was already moving. Not that he needed to bother; she knew he would be waiting for her the second the doors opened again.

As the old elevator shuddered along, Alyssa got shakily back to her feet and checked her hand. She was pretty sure a gash that deep would need stitches, but there was nothing she could do about it now but tighten her soiled bandages. Her right hand was in far better shape now, so she moved those bandages to her left hand as well. As she pulled them tight, a new thought occurred to her; it seemed like she was completely alone here.

The elevator had come to a stop and the doors had creaked open, but Alyssa paused to remember the passage she read in the book of Entities; the one about how weaker Subordinates needed to 'refuel' from time to time. She thought it was safe to assume she had finally met one who had advanced past this stage and was doing just fine without further torment of his original victim.

With her weapon tightly clenched in her good hand, Alyssa stepped out of the elevator, where the furious chase would resume.


	19. Chapter 19: Worse Than a Nightmare

Okay, this is completely random, but this question popped into my head a while ago and I'm weird so I have to ask it: if you died and came back as a Subordinate, what sort of Subordinate would you be?

Feel free to detail appearance, choice of weapon, preferred place to lurk, and the sort of victims you'd stalk. Be creative. Have fun. I look forward to your response. And thanks again for all the enthusiasm and support all of you have shown.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Worse Than a Nightmare**

Floor B-2 (as was marked on the elevator doors) looked almost identical to B-1, except there wasn't a hallway off to the right. The room curved to the left the same way; Alyssa squinted down its length from the top of the steps, but it was too dim to really see anything—though she could see a faint flickering on the walls, and there was a soft crackling sound, like flames. Though her legs were still sore and her side throbbed in time with her heartbeat, she slowly descended the steps and began to explore the new area.

Around the curve along the right-hand wall was a pile of boxes and crates haphazardly stacked on top of each other. Alyssa was still approaching them when a gray form dropped out of nowhere and landed, as impossible as the action seemed, on the top box. His movements supine, the Subordinate pulled himself to a crouch, rested his elbow on his upturned knee and drummed his fingers on the side of his face.

He didn't say a word as his pupil-less eyes watched her, and he didn't have to; his cruel smirk said plenty.

Alyssa thought briefly about using the bottle, but then her eye fell on an object lying on the corner of one of the crates; a metal crowbar. She hesitated a moment, then seized hold of the straight end and swung. She clipped the Subordinate on his jaw, so hard his neck snapped to the side. His balance gone, the undead killer swayed and fell, the stack of boxes crashing down around him. Alyssa dropped the crowbar, took a running leap over everything and kept going.

Praying with all her might that she wasn't running straight into another dead end, Alyssa rounded the corner—and almost ran smack into a small fire that was burning in the middle of the floor. The narrow space ended just beyond it and her nose twitched as her eyes darted around frantically; someone had spilled oil all over the floor and wall, which the flames had consumed. They were dying out now, and she dodged around the flickering heat as she made her way to the pile of objects in the back.

There were more boxes and a large drum that once held the oil, but Alyssa focused on the red container on the floor next to it. Above the quiet whisper of the flames she could hear the Subordinate's footsteps as he ran up behind her. She resisted the urge to turn around and fling water at him, instead bending down and hefting the red container in her hands.

She waited a heartbeat more before turning around and hurling the container into the air. Standing on the other side of the flames, the Subordinate scoffed at the attack and used his axes to deflect the plastic object. The lid popped off when the container bounced off the flat side of the blades and Alyssa ran to the other side of the oil drum as clear liquid splashed all over the floor, walls, and Subordinate.

For a moment Alyssa was blinded as the small fire turned into an inferno. As the flames roared, so did the Subordinate, so loudly that his screams continued to ring in her ears after they had faded. When the flames finally settled down again, she stepped cautiously out from behind the oil drum.

A few tongues of red continued to lap at the floor, but otherwise the fire had died out. The rusty wall and ceiling had been scorched black and the room stunk from gasoline and ash—but Alyssa couldn't have been happier. The Subordinate lay in a crumpled heap, his gray body charred like the corpse she found in the Rand's kitchen. She knew it wouldn't last long, though, and quickly stepped around the prone, undead figure and hurried back to the elevator.

With no other choice left, she punched the bottom button and headed back down to the floor she started on. Hopefully, she would have enough time to explore; there had to be something lying around that she could use to get out of this place. Although she was beginning to wonder just how she was going to escape completely, since the only way out of a Subordinate's lair was to defeat him. But there was no sign of her bow, so she assumed that he hadn't switched from 'capture' to 'kill' yet. And without the spirit of his first victim lurking around, she had no idea how to drive him to that point.

The elevator doors creaked open, cutting her thoughts short. Bottle in hand, her eyes darted up and down the curved room.

She was still trying to figure out where and when she was. Her instincts were leaning toward a time fairly close to her own, but without an actual date to confirm this, she couldn't be sure.

Her eyes and ears open, she moved passed the first hallway and down the steps to the floor, which was much more rough and uneven than the floor of the other two basements, and there were stalagmites sticking up in places. Water dripped from somewhere nearby as she followed the curve of the room to the right this time. Not far from the stairs there was a small metal box with a door built into the wall, like a fuse box.

When she opened it, Alyssa was faced with sparking circuitry; the main wires had been cut. There were six places that needed to be connected; three on the top and three on the bottom. Alyssa studied the dangling bits of thin electric cable—and then it hit her. If she reconnected the wires, it would send power back to the door that was electronically locked.

At least, that was what she was hoping would happen. There was only one problem; she needed something to protect her hands from the live wires.

Something like the rubber gloves up on floor B-1.

Alyssa wanted to crumple against the wall and whimper pitifully for a moment, but she knew she didn't have time to be so self indulgent. She turned away from the sparking wires and scanned for any sign of a gray-skinned Subordinate, but the floor was quiet except for the dripping. She moved slowly down the narrow passage, stepping over trickles of water that were leaking in. The room eventually curved to a dead end like the others, with a pile of wooden crates and boxes discarded on the floor in one corner.

They were empty—except for a sheet of paper with a diagram drawn on it. The paper was damp and the ink had smudged so Alyssa couldn't be sure, but she thought the words 'Distribution Plan' were written across the top. Beneath the header was a picture of the inside of the electrical box, displaying how the wires were supposed to be connected. Knowing she'd definitely need that later, she folded it up and placed it in her skirt pocket.

As she headed back she suddenly remembered something—her discarded jacket. Breaking into a jog, she hurried up the steps and checked the floor near the elevator. She soon found her jacket, wrapped around one of the metal spindles of the railing and still damp from her fall in the stream. She tugged it loose, shook it out and slipped it back on.

After patting her pockets (everything was still in place) she turned around—and nearly shrieked in surprise as she all but walked straight into the Subordinate standing behind her, axes hovering close to her ears. The undead killer grinned in smug delight at her stunned expression. "Boo."

Alyssa didn't reply—she just swiped her right hand at him, dousing his face and chest with holy water. She had to duck as he began flailing in pain, his axes ringing metallically as they cut through the air. "That's getting annoying," the Subordinate growled, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.

Alyssa agreed, but for a different reason; he was standing between her and the elevator. The way she just came was a dead end, leaving her no choice but to run down the hall and back into the room with the waterfall. Once there, she sloshed across the stream and dashed into the room with the aquarium.

She didn't think there was much use in trying, but there was no place left to go and she didn't have the strength to run anymore; she had to hide. Her eyes moved around the room, briefly lingering on the desk before coming to rest on the back corner.

It didn't look like much, but there was a narrow gap between the wall and the aquarium, just big enough for her to squeeze into and hunker down. The room was shadowy and the aquarium had no light, plus the water was murky. She could just see through the bubbles enough to make out the door across from her.

It was only a heartbeat or two later when said door burst open and the Subordinate leaped into the room, as if he'd been hoping he would tackle her in the process. When he didn't see her, he began circling the room, grunting and muttering to himself. His head swept this way and that as he checked beneath the desk and the table.

Alyssa watched him from her hiding place, feeling much more exposed than the last time she had hid. She doubted his eyesight was as bad as Morris', so all she could do was hope that he was impatient and would give up soon. _Please go away_, she prayed.

Almost like he had obeyed her, he gave a snort, spun his axes indignantly and stalked out of the room. Alyssa slowly counted to five before she dared start to breathe again. Moving carefully so not to bump her left side, she started edging out from behind the aquarium. She hadn't gone very far when a sudden gust of air brushed her face and made her bangs puff out. Her eyes immediately jerked to the door, but it had swung shut.

Not that the door mattered. Subordinates had their own method of travel. In a feat that was impossible for an ordinary human, he had materialized on one of the thin walls of the aquarium, bare toes curled over the edge as he defied the laws of physics. His grin was wide as he leaned forward, arms crossed. "You didn't really think that was going to work, did you?"

She had hoped it would, but she had had her doubts. Now there was only one thing left to do; she sprang up, put her hands on the Subordinate's shins and pushed. While the undead killer thrashed and gurgled in the aquarium, she bolted out the door and flew back to the elevator room.

In the elevator she punched the button for B-1. After the brief ride was over she stepped through the doors expecting the Subordinate to be lurking nearby, ready to pounce, but the floor was quiet. Knowing he could show up at any second, she hurried down the steps to the cabinet. The gloves were lying nearby; she pocketed them before scanning and selecting one of the slim bundles of wire. She expected to be jumped at any moment, but she made it all the way back inside the elevator without incident.

Back on B-3, she cautiously returned to the sparking circuitry, slid the gloves on and unwound the wire. She needed three short lengths of wire; fortunately, the bundle she had grabbed was already cut into small sections. She pulled three pieces loose and began twisting the ends in place, using the diagram as a guide.

In only took about a minute to finish, but Alyssa couldn't believe she had been left alone long enough to complete the task. When the last wire was connected, she took the bottle from its temporary place under her belt and whirled around, but the floor was still empty. She could scarcely believe it, but she made it all the way back to the elevator again.

The quiet was starting to make her more nervous than being chased did. Was he hiding? Or was he waiting for the right moment to spring out at her? She almost wished he would get it over with so she could relax and start running again.

After returning yet again to B-1, Alyssa went over and gave the circuit breaker switch a pull. This time a green light flashed on, signaling that the power was up and running again.

And so was she. It happened at almost the exact same instant as the switch clicking in place, but she clearly heard an angry snort somewhere behind her. It sounded like he was above her—not that it mattered. There was only one direction she could run, and she headed straight for the now unlocked door.

The hall seemed twice as long as last time, and her tired lungs were burning by the time she reached the end of it. As she was reaching for the door, she noticed something odd. She expected the sound of pounding feet to be following close behind her, or taunting words or the sound of an ax slicing through the air. There was nothing but silence around her, and when she dared glance over her shoulder, she was alone.

Alyssa was too puzzled to be relieved. She knew he wouldn't just give up the chase—unless the other side of that door truly led to her salvation, and by crossing through it she was passing into a place he knew he couldn't follow.

She could only try. But as she put a hand against the cool metal, her eye fell on the glowing green pad next to the door—and suddenly realized something, something that made her thump her forehead against the door and silently curse her own stupidity.

It didn't matter that she had retrieved the key—it wasn't that kind of lock. The door had to be opened with a card, and she didn't have one.

Realization was far too late, of course; she heard a soft snicker an instant before a pair of arms clamped around her torso, up near her shoulders. "Got you."

"Oh, give me a break," Alyssa muttered.

She uncapped the bottle and sprinkled a little water along the whale-gray forearms. Though his skin hissed and steamed under the contact, the Subordinate tried to hold on despite the pain. Alyssa threw both her legs out and kicked hard off the impassable door, sending her would-be captor stumbling backward. As he tried in vain to keep hold of her he lost his balance and fell; Alyssa scrambled over him, running straight across his chest as she made her escape.

"That's it," came the infuriated cry as she flew to the elevator. "I'm going to chop you into bite-size pieces and feed you to the nearest dog."

Alyssa wondered if he really meant that. He sure _sounded_ like he meant it, but the glass bottle wasn't showing any sign of twisting into the bow. As angry as he was, she didn't believe he was ready to kill her—though he certainly sounded mad enough to hurt her as badly as he could without actually snuffing her life out.

She wasn't anxious to find out just how much damage her body could take. She dove for the keypad and slapped a button—any button, it didn't really matter anymore—and fell back in a corner as she waited for the doors to close. The rusty machinery seemed tired from so much use and groaned noisily. Just before the doors finished closing the last inch or so, a bright white eye appeared at the crack, and she heard a slow, deep chuckle.

He didn't speak, but Alyssa could practically hear what he was thinking. _Go ahead and run. You can't escape me forever._

The elevator chugged on, until it stopped with a rusty clunk. Alyssa stayed in the corner, her face hidden in her hands. She was trapped—they both knew it. She had been to every room and she hadn't seen anything that looked like an access card. Unless...

There was one place she hadn't checked yet. She had deliberately skipped looking under the other trapdoor back in the waterfall room.

She hadn't much choice now, and she got up to push the button for B-3. She punched it a few times before realizing she must already be there; she left the elevator with an annoyed mutter.

She expected her pursuer to appear as she made her way to the trapdoor, but the room was quiet. Except for the waterfall, of course, which masked all other sounds.

Alyssa had to stand behind the trapdoor, dig her heels into the ground and pull with all her might, but she managed to get the heavy door open. Beneath it was a ladder; she descended it and found herself in a room almost identical to the one she had crawled through the wall to get to. The railing in front of her was twisted and nearly rusted through, but Alyssa didn't plan to descend the stairs into the cold water that flooded the room anyway.

Near the base of the stairs was a narrow ledge that ran along the wall. And perched on the ledge, as if he had sat down to think and never got up again, was a shriveled, half-rotted corpse.

There wasn't anything that told her who he was or what he had been, though she did wonder if some of the tears on his clothes weren't just from decay. There was a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, but she wasn't so anxious to read what it said that she was willing to pry it out of his bony fingers.

She didn't really want to search him at all, but this was truly her last place to look. And so, with her hand pressed to her mouth to try and block the smell, she reached out with her other hand and slid it gingerly into the dead man's jacket pocket.

The lining felt cold and wet from the damp air—or so she hoped. Swallowing hard, she dug deeper. Her fingers brushed against something hard and flat. Hoping against hope, she pulled the object out and held it up to the light that was flickering above her head.

It was a card key all right, but she had her doubts about its functionality, it was so soiled. Swallowing again, she knelt and attempted to clean it in the water, which wasn't very clean itself. After rubbing for a minute or so, she held it up to the light again; it was still stained, but the electronic strip on the back gleamed a little.

"It'll have to do," she murmured.

Slipping the key into her inner pocket, Alyssa ascended the ladder again. Her head was just clearing the opening when someone yelled, "Catch!" and something whizzed over her scalp, glinting silver and blue.

She had been expecting that, but she was taken by surprise when the ax bounced off the wall behind her and went sailing back to its master. The Subordinate caught it out off the air as he leaped nimbly over the wide gap between catwalks, laughing at her shocked expression. "You didn't catch."

"Keep it up and _you'll_ be the one catching it," Alyssa wanted to say, but didn't dare rile him further. Instead she pulled herself to her feet and tossed a volley of water at him, which he dodged easily.

She had been expecting that, too, and it gave her just enough time to dart by and run down the hall. What the one chasing her wasn't expecting was for her to stop running and spin around, and this time she caught him squarely in the face.

"That's getting really, _really_ old," the Subordinate roared as he clawed his steaming skin. Alyssa ignored him and raced to the elevator. She dove inside and stayed low as she hit the button for B-1, and a good thing, too; the ax went whizzing by again, and again it ricocheted off the wall and flew back again, like a boomerang. It barely made it through the rapidly narrowing gap as the doors closed.

When they opened again, she made a beeline for the side hallway. She hadn't quite reached it when the undead killer again dropped from seemingly nowhere, landed behind her and swung with everything he had.

Alyssa dove for the floor and crawled, and the ax sunk into the wall with a bang that made her ears sting. She crawled for a second longer before getting back on her feet and running full force. The Subordinate just laughed at her. "Catch!"

She knew that was coming, but this time she didn't have room to dodge. The ax clipped her shoulder and clattered to the floor near her feet; Alyssa slumped against the wall, clutching at her shoulder as she waited for the pain.

When none came, other than a little throbbing, she looked down and saw that the ax blade was free of blood. Miraculously, she had only been hit with the handle.

Behind her, the Subordinate was grunting. Alyssa looked and saw he was trying to pull his ax free from the wall. He was trying so hard he was using both hands and had one foot propped on the wall for leverage, but he had struck so hard the weapon wouldn't budge.

All instinct and common sense told her take advantage of this and run, but she was sore, tired, and angry from the long chase, and there was one last thing she wanted to do.

She bent down, gripped the axe's cool, sleek handle, and turned to her enemy. "Catch!"

The Subordinate was so surprised he was barely able to dive out of the way—with an impressive yell that wasn't nearly as deep as any of his previous shouts—as his own weapon came flying his way. Subordinate and ax made quite a racket as they hit the floor, and Alyssa turned and swiped the card through the slot in the panel.

A green light blinked on and the door opened with a faint pop. Alyssa shoved it wide and all but jumped through it.

Her body was tensed to run, to flee into whatever safety might be ahead of her, or to something she could use to defend herself. Instead, she stopped so fast she nearly tripped.

Alyssa had been strictly taught by her mother, grandfather and teachers to never curse. She had never really had the urge to. But faced now with what lay before her, there was no other way to say it.

"What the hell is _this_?"


	20. Chapter 20: Ghosts of Yesterday

**Chapter 20: Ghosts of Yesterday**

The walls of this new place were a bright off-white, accented with rich oak paneling. Old-fashioned golden sconces capped with elegant white glass shades were evenly spaced down the length of the hall. And beneath her feet was plush gray-mauve carpet.

She was home.

"Not possible," Alyssa muttered, turning around.

The door behind her, which had been made out of the same thick, rusted metal as the rest of the place she had just spent far too long getting acquainted with, now looked like a pretty oak wood door, polished so it gleamed. If Alyssa didn't know any better, it looked like the door to her mother's room, but there was no nameplate on it.

Turning around again, she saw a box directly in front of her, tucked away in the corner. Sitting crookedly on top of the box was a plush toy rabbit, with a head as round as its body and a shiny pink nose. If she _was_ back home somehow, that box hadn't been there when she left. And the last time she saw that chubby white rabbit it had been sitting on her dresser.

Her disbelief mounting, Alyssa drew closer and lifted the stuffed toy by its ear. It sure _looked_ like the stuffed rabbit she had had for as long as she could remember, only its coloring wasn't faded, and there was no sign of wear on its soft fur.

Setting the toy down again, Alyssa looked down the length of the shadowy hallway. She knew this had to be some kind of trick—that she had stumbled into a place that only _looked _like her home—but there was such a feeling of warmth and safety that she felt more relaxed than she had since..

Well, since this whole mess started in the first place.

She was no fool, though, and didn't let her guard down as she started down the hall. As she moved past the upstairs bathroom her ears pricked up; there was a sound coming from somewhere nearby, but it was too muffled to make out.

At the end of the hall was the little sitting area—the same spot that had eventually led her to the sacred glass bottle she now carried, only now there was a fire crackling in the fireplace. Standing next to it was another relic from Alyssa's childhood; her old rocking horse. Except it didn't look quite so old. In fact, it looked brand new, and it smelled faintly of fresh paint and wood glue.

Alyssa absently gave it a push as she remembered the day her mother told her she had grown too big for it and that it was time to pass it on to some other little girl. She had tried not to cry, she remembered. She was pretty sure she had anyway.

She could only think of one reason why it would be here now; this _was_ her home—her home back when she was a child. The idea made her feel so strange she didn't know whether to start laughing or to rush to find a way out of here. Was she on the verge of bumping into herself—a much smaller version of herself? And what of her mother? Was she here, too? Or maybe...

Alyssa's heart beat faster as another, even wilder idea struck her. What if she had gone back to a time when her father was still alive? The thought of seeing him in the flesh instead of just in photos made her feel nervous—but excited, too. Not that it mattered; it wasn't like she could walk up an introduce herself. She hoped she at least caught a glimpse of him before she was done here.

She knew she had to be here for a reason, though she couldn't imagine what that reason might be. She turned away from her old—new—toy and the warm fire, her eyes wandering along the hall to the closed door across from her. Only instead of her own name, a plate reading 'Nancy' was fastened to the door.

Alyssa tested the knob, but it was locked. Undaunted, she moved down a little and opened the door that led out to the upper hallway, which would then take her down the stairs to the entryway.

As soon as she opened the door, the strange sound she had been hearing grew louder. Only it wasn't a strange sound at all. It was a normal sound heard every day—just not in the Hamilton house. And if she was hearing it now it could only mean one thing.

Moving as if she were in a dream, Alyssa followed the sound—a baby's cries—down the stairs and across the main floor. As she drew closer to the doors that led into the dining room, another sound joined the unhappy fussing—a sound she knew so well it made her heart skip several beats to hear it now.

Someone was humming a song, gentle and sweet, with a voice so warm it could chase away even the darkest nightmare. Alyssa had heard that song—that voice—countless times when she was small. As she listened to it, she forgot about not being in her real home. She forgot about being chased by Subordinates. The only thing that mattered to her right now, in this very moment, was seeing if the source of that song was really, truly there.

Pushing open the doors that led into the dining room, Alyssa was momentarily blinded by sunlight. Shielding her eyes, she took a step into the room; the singing, along with the crying, had stopped. "Mum?"

Her query was answered with a gentle laugh. Bathed in golden light, her mother was sitting in the middle of the room, where the dining room table and chairs should be. In front of her was a large basket, which her mother was peering down at intently. Alyssa drew closer. "Mum? Is that really you?"

When no one answered, Alyssa's moment of frivolous hope faded in a hurry. She stopped trying to talk and watched quietly, knowing it was no use to try and get her mother's attention. What she was seeing wasn't real; the light in the room was unnaturally bright, and it blurred strangely at the edges, like an old photograph. As during her previous journeys through time, she was watching something that had already happened. Only this time no one was in danger.

Leaning over the basket, Nancy Hamilton cupped the pendant that dangled from her neck in her hand—the same clover-shaped pendant Alyssa had been finding pieces of throughout her long night. There came a gurgling from the pile of white blankets inside the basket, and Alyssa realized—with a jolt—that she was looking at a part of her own past, too, a part too long ago for her to remember.

"My darling little daughter," Nancy murmured. "Has this already caught your eye? This is a very special pendant, you know; each leaf has its own meaning. There's one for friendship, one for hope, one for courage, and, of course, one for love. It's been in our family for many generations—because only a Hamilton, like you, would know how to unlock the secrets it holds. It'll be yours when you're old enough to understand what that means."

From the doorway, soon-to-be fifteen Alyssa watched her mother and her less-than-a-year-old self, who was now stretching her tiny, chubby hands out for the glittering pendant as her gurgling and cooing bubbled up into something else.

Nancy was so delighted by the new sound that she jumped up and turned toward the door. Alyssa automatically moved to the side; she had watched the scene before her with a sense of calm and warmth in her heart, though she felt a twinge of sadness as her mother brushed past her as though she weren't there. "Philip, darling," she called out. "Father, come here; Alyssa is laughing her first laugh!"

Brimming with motherly pride and happiness, young Nancy returned to the basket. Alyssa would have been content to watch her and her younger self for hours, but a sudden cry behind her made her whirl around.

Her mother didn't seem to have noticed the sound, but Alyssa left the idyllic scene behind and ran across the entryway, following the sounds of a scuffle. She had been wrong about no one being in danger; through the closed door that led out into the garden, she heard angry shouting and thumping as two people shoved one another about.

Though she had no idea what to expect—so far as she knew nothing bad had ever happened in Hamilton house—Alyssa ran to the door, threw it open and stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the garden below.

Two men were on the balcony, grappling at each other as they struggled. It looked like the larger, older of the men was trying to push the smaller, younger man over the railing—but Alyssa knew that couldn't be so.

She knew because she recognized them both. The older man, dressed in his usual maroon suit, was her grandfather. And though she had only seen his face in pictures, she knew the younger, fair-haired man at once; it was her father. And at that moment he looked terrified.

"Why are you doing this, Dick?" Philip Hamilton cried as he was pinned against the rough stone railing.

Dick Hamilton had his hands on the other man's throat, and on his face he wore a look Alyssa had never seen or imagined him using before; one of twisted rage.

"I bet you thought you were clever, keeping that from me," was the older man's furious response. "First you took my Nancy, and now you want to rob me of my Alyssa, too? I won't let you, do you hear me? I won't!"

Ignoring Philip's frightened screams and pleas for mercy, he continued to push and shove. Though she couldn't believe the scene before her was real—that it had ever been real—Alyssa wanted to rush forward and stop them. But there was nothing she could do to stop something that wasn't really there; the two of them had that same hazy look as her mother, as if she were watching them through a filter. There was nothing she could do but scream as her father slipped and fell from the balcony.

There was a thud, after which the garden turned so quiet it was almost painful to listen to. Dick Hamilton was staring downward, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. He looked horrified and angry over what he had just done—but the words he growled before fleeing the scene were anything but remorseful.

"Nancy will regret the day she chose to marry you."

Suddenly alone, Alyssa stood against the ivy-covered wall for a moment and trembled, her heart beating in her chest so hard it felt like a firecracker exploding over and over again against her ribs. With tears in her eyes, she forced herself into motion and descended the stone steps.

She could barely stand to look. The drop from the balcony to the ground was only a few feet and not likely to kill someone, but her father's body lay flat, still, and lifeless. But the fall alone hadn't killed him; he had landed next to a large stump. Alyssa's stomach lurched and she had to sink to her weak knees; in her normal time that stump was carved to look like a seat, and she had many memories of sitting on it in her mother's lap, or sitting there alone as she played with her dolls.

In this time, the tree that once stood where the stump was now had only recently been chopped down, and the ax was still propped up against it. And the stump itself was covered in her father's blood from when his head had landed on the axe's blade.

Alyssa couldn't bear to look any longer. She turned and curled up in a ball in the shadows beneath the stairs, face in her hands and her body racked with sobs.

She couldn't believe this had been kept from her. All her life she had assumed her father had died from disease, or in an accident. Not that she didn't believe it wasn't an accident—her grandfather couldn't have truly meant to push him off—but his death had clearly been covered up. Hidden from her. The stump had been carefully carved into a pretty shape and stained a deep, dark red-brown. She would never be able to look at it the same way again.

_No_, said a voice inside her. _No, it's not true._

It wasn't the voice of her Rooder self, but the voice of the little girl who once walked with her grandfather through the park, and held his hand until she fell asleep on nights her mother was away, and sat on his knee as he read her stories in his study. There was no way what she had just seen was real—he wasn't capable of that sort of thing. It was all an illusion, a dirty, mean-spirited trick being played by...

Alyssa stopped sniffling as the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end. She scrambled to her feet and whirled around, bottle raised in one hand and the other extended in front of her, finger pointed accusingly. "You!"

The Subordinate's wild laughter echoed unnaturally throughout the small garden as he leaped up to balance on one foot atop the stump. Alyssa's eyes flicked briefly to the base; the body, ax, and blood had vanished.

"Now you know the truth," the Subordinate was saying, his cruel laughter still ringing in her ears. "It was your own dear grandfather who murdered your father."

"Liar," Alyssa all but screamed. She lunged for him even as he jumped down and barreled toward her. He swung at her, but his aim was high and she dodged easily. He just laughed as his ax struck one of the stone pillars supporting the balcony. He was playing with her; playing and laughing at her pain. Anger flared up inside her so fiercely her chest burned.

"You lie," she shouted again. "That's all your kind does; you lie, you steal, and you kill!"

She was nearing hysterics and she knew it, and she didn't care. And she realized, as the fire burning in her chest grew, that never in her life had she really hated anything or anyone. Not truly. Looking at the being in front of her now, still laughing insanely and swinging wildly at her, she knew she despised him with every fiber of her being. She hated his grotesque, red-streaked face, his ghastly white eyes, the sound his axes made as they sliced through the air—and especially the way he kept laughing.

The two before him had also laughed, but this time it was different. He knew what he had just shown her had greatly upset her, and he was reveling in the pain he'd caused her. As she dodged up the stairs, she felt like the fire inside her was burning through her, shooting clear to her fingertips. When she stood on the landing, she spun to face her enemy. "Enough!"

The Subordinate was running up the railing; her sudden shout made him pause and cock a hairless red eyebrow curiously. Alyssa stared him straight in the eye, ready to take him on with her bare hands if she had to. As soon as the thought passed through her mind, the palm of her hand started to burn, as if the fire raging inside her had exploded from her fingers.

She didn't need to check twice to figure out what that meant. The glass bottle had already spiraled into an elegant curve, reshaping itself in response to her need—her need to attack instead of defend. There were no theatrics this time, no swirl of golden light around her, just a surge of power from within her, bursting to be let out.

Fearless as the energy pulsed through her veins, Alyssa raised the bow and fired an arrow of light at her laughing foe. Only he wasn't laughing now; he dove from the railing with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a yelp. Elated, Alyssa propped one foot on the railing and aimed over at the retreating Subordinate. He was already in motion and the shot flew wild from her adrenalin-laced fingers, but somehow it hit the mark.

Instead of feeling the usual rush of excitement and relief like she usually did when she struck her target, Alyssa frowned. She climbed atop the railing and dropped to the grass below, landing in a crouch. Her enemy was still reeling from the first hit, and she easily aimed and struck again.

Too easily. The garden wasn't large, but there was still room for him to dodge, and there was a large tree near the stump he could duck behind, not to mention the pillars. But his white eyes were wild as she drew back and aimed again, as if her suddenly taking the offensive had truly taken him off guard. She had her doubts about him being as shocked as he appeared, but she wasn't about to stop her attack and ask him what other tricks he had planned.

She managed to strike him again before he seemed to recover from his shock and starting rushing her. He was fast and leaped around nimbly, but Alyssa adopted the strategy she had assumed he would use and took cover behind the tree. It was getting easier and easier for her to pull up the power inside her, allowing her to make larger, brighter arrows of light in less time. The sparking energy danced along her nerve endings even as the thought that something wasn't right gnawed at the back of her mind.

Alyssa didn't know whether the feeling was legitimate or just a bout of fear, so she shoved it aside and continued to fight with all she had. With the golden power pulsing through her she barely felt the pain in her side anymore, but as her enemy weakened, she noticed that she was weakening, too.

Her lungs burned in her chest as she breathed, and she nearly tripped over the stump as she stepped back to ready another arrow. The Subordinate had suddenly leaped back and raised his ax over his head—perhaps to throw it, perhaps just to taunt her—and she took advantage of the brief opening. The arrow she let loose was tiny and weak, but it struck him at the base of his throat and made him stagger back. Alyssa turned and ducked under the stairs, where she leaned against the cool stone of the wall, her breath coming in short, rapid gulps.

_This is it,_ she thought.

In this small space she had little chance to let her arrows charge, and she wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing as she held the bow in front of her, invisible bowstring pulled back as far as it could go. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she listened the Subordinate's footsteps as he hurried closer. She focused on the energy crackling at her fingertips and forced herself to remain still.

_Just a little more_, she told herself. The energy was straining against the bow, ready to ignite and take off like a rocket, but she continued to hold it in place. She waited until the rapid footsteps were dangerously near before stepping out from under the steps, bow pointed directly at her enemy's chest.

She didn't bother with words; she let the sparking ball of yellow light do the talking for her. As it had with Haigh, the charged arrow exploded in a blinding white light that had her foe roaring in pain, and when the light faded enough for her to see again, he was anchored in place by the brilliant golden light now engulfing him.

The Subordinate thrashed, tugged, and howled, but it was no use. With her head held high, Alyssa felt like she was glowing from head to toe as she raised the bow again. "It ends now."

She charged another arrow until she couldn't hold it a second longer, and as it sailed through the air it unleashed such a shower of gold and white sparks she had to shield her eyes. When she uncovered them she expected to see a pile of ash where the Subordinate had been.

Instead she saw something that made her heart stop and her insides twist into one big knot.

The Subordinate was still standing. He had his axes crossed in front of him, flat sides facing her like a shield. He had not only broken free from the hold, he had blocked her attack—her final attack.

Alyssa all but dropped her bow as she stared, dumbstruck, at the unscathed killer, every last bit of strength in her gone. He gave a hop and balanced on top of the stump, as if showing her how unharmed he was. He gave his ax a toss and a twirl before pointing it at a spot near her feet.

"That was fun," he declared, "but playtime is over. Say hi to everyone down there for me."

_Down there_? Alyssa thought dumbly.

She looked down—and let out a shriek. A pool of black water had formed around her feet, and before her brain could finish sending her feet the signal to move, she started sinking in it. Alyssa shrieked again as she grappled for something—anything—but there wasn't anything within reach. She tried to throw herself forward in the hopes she could drag herself out, but it was too late. She was already down to her waist, the black substance pulling at her mercilessly. It was cold and thick and didn't feel like water at all—it didn't feel like anything she had ever touched before.

Within moments she had been sucked down to her chest; she threw her head back and gasped as her broken rib was squeezed. She wanted to scream, but she barely managed a whimper. Across the garden she caught a glimpse of the Subordinate. He had his back to her and was walking away, as if she wasn't worth bothering with anymore.

And then her gaze dropped too low to see him anymore. The last thing she saw were blades of grass, and then the darkness swallowed her completely.


	21. Chapter 21: Warnings from Beyond

Out of all the chapters I've done so far, I've taken the most liberties with this one. Coincidentally, (or not?) this chapter was the most enjoyable to write. Just wanted to share that.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Warnings from Beyond  
**

Alyssa felt like she was floating. Below her, she saw a splash of blinding white light. It grew larger and larger as it drifted toward her—or maybe she was drifting toward it, she couldn't really tell. She couldn't feel or hear anything, as if she had become formless. Before she knew it the light had engulfed her, and then everything went dark again.

Alyssa suddenly felt cold, a cold that pierced straight through her clothes and clear down to her bone. A thought wormed its way into her hazy mind; was she dead?

No, she was quite alive, lying face down in the dirt. Spitting, she started to push herself up and let out a sharp yelp as hot pain shot through her side. She rolled onto her back with a groan and held still as she mentally assessed the shape her body was in. Aside from her rib and a little joint stiffness, she almost felt refreshed. Thanks to her impromptu nap, she thought wryly, and wondered how long she had been unconscious.

It could have been a few minutes—or it could have been hours. Not that she had hours, if the dark man's warning meant anything. But she still felt that the time that passed in places like this passed differently than it did in her normal time. She had spent at least two hours riding that darn elevator over and over again.

Forcing herself to sit up, she rubbed her tired eyes and looked at her new surroundings. A chilly fog hung heavily in the air, mirroring the murky clouds in the grim sky above. The area was square, with crumbling walls around the perimeter. Points of fir trees peeked over to the aged stone, looking like shadows spying in the darkness. Everything was colored in shades of gray. And all around her were worn crosses and old stone markers.

She was in a cemetery.

"Lovely," Alyssa muttered sarcastically.

Beside her was the glass bottle, looking more gray than blue in the eerie darkness. As she reached for it, her fingers brushed something that crinkled; the bottle was sitting on top of sheets of paper.

Eyebrow cocked curiously, Alyssa returned the bottle to her belt and sat cross-legged as she looked at the pages, which were torn along the edges, like they had been ripped from a book. Strangely, the black words, written in pen, seemed to stand out sharply against the white of the paper, despite the lack of light. Alyssa felt her stomach pull into a nervous knot; the handwriting was her grandfather's.

'What a cruel twist of fate that the father of my beautiful granddaughter is that spineless oaf, Philip. It was necessary for my Nancy to marry, for continuing the Rooder bloodline is a most noble calling. But why couldn't she have chosen someone worthy, a man with strength and integrity? That fool Philip has done nothing but show his incompetency since day one. He has spoken endlessly to Nancy about how he thinks being a Rooder should be handled—something he knows nothing of.

'Unfortunately, his outrageous ideas haven't been brushed aside as they should have been; Nancy has started talking about how she doesn't want my dear Alyssa to be raised as a Rooder. With Alyssa still so small and helpless I can understand her motherly fear, for the life of a Rooder is wrought with danger, but to shirk our family's duty would be a disgrace. But thanks to the persuading of that blasted Philip, Nancy has turned willful and stubborn and won't listen to me on this matter anymore. I can only hope my little Alyssa will overcome this foolishness when she's older.'

The next page looked different from the others. It was wrinkled, and the writing was crooked and sloppy. Alyssa read on, though she was a little afraid of where this was going.

'I can't believe what just happened. I knew the day he married my Nancy that that damn fool Philip would one day push me too far, but what I just discovered has me shocked beyond telling. All this time I had believed that I had witnessed their marriage right here, inside the Hamilton household, but I came across a document that stated that they had married weeks earlier in a private ceremony. I thought it must be some mistake because I could see no reason to do such a thing—to hold a secret ceremony completely without my knowledge—but then I noticed the names written on the paper. If I were to believe my own eyes, my Nancy has committed the most disgraceful act imaginable for a Hamilton—she has taken Philip's name as her own!

'When I confronted Philip, the brainless dolt didn't even bother to deny it, said he saw no reason to hide it in the first place. He even dared suggest that it had been Nancy's idea, that she doesn't want her Rooder heritage anymore—and she doesn't want it for Alyssa, either. When I angrily told him that the duties of the Hamilton family are unavoidable and that it's shameful to even try, he proceeded to insult and defy me by claiming that I've grown old and foolish and cling too tightly to tradition, even threatened to take both Nancy and Alyssa away from me if I didn't leave them alone.

'He's already taken my Nancy from me in spirit, but the thought of losing my beautiful grandchild was too much. I fear I finally snapped, and now my actions have placed me at the same level as the vile creatures we live to rid the world of. But there's nothing to be done about it now. The police will be easily enough to handle; it's Nancy I most worry about. With her mind already poisoned by Philip's ridiculous ideals, she won't hesitate to take my granddaughter away from me. And that is something that I just can't bear. I must handle everything carefully and make sure the truth is never known.'

Alyssa's heart felt as numb as her hands as she lifted her eyes from the page. She stared blindly at the shadowy ground in front of her for several seconds before crumpling the pages into a ball and flinging them at the nearest grave marker. "More lies," she muttered darkly.

There couldn't possibly be any truth to what she had just read—but even as she fought the idea with all she had, her Rooder instincts were trying to tell her otherwise. Memories came, unbidden, pushing their way into her mind and forming a picture across her life that she couldn't deny.

Her grandfather had never spoken of her father, not even once. When her father's name was mentioned in his presence, he would blanch visibly. When she was small there had been pictures of her father throughout the house, but her grandfather had slowly removed them, until only a few remained in her mother's room. No doubt about it; her grandfather had hated her father.

That didn't mean he had killed him, even accidentally—or did it? He _had_ disappeared three years ago, without any warning at all. She tried telling herself that he had good reason to vanish like that, but only one thing came to mind; only the guilty have reason to run.

Wiping her misty eyes, Alyssa forced these dark thoughts from her mind. None of this had anything to do with what was going on now, and there was no point in agonizing over it. She had no way of knowing if her grandfather was even alive. From the tangled jumble of confusion inside her head she snared a single thought and clung to it; her mother was innocent of whatever happened that day, she was sure of that now. Her mother was the one she needed to find; she was the one she could turn to in all this.

Alyssa stood up and shivered as a cold wind suddenly whipped through the cemetery. Around her the trees seemed to whisper as they bowed and swayed. She froze, her heart thumping; it sounded like someone was calling her.

But that was silly. There was no one else around. Though even as she told herself this the sound of hushed voices, as soft as ocean waves in the distance, were carried to her on the wind as it blew over the tops of the trees again. Her hair blowing back from her face, she started walking, moving toward a gate in the stone wall. She suddenly felt like she _needed_ to find the source of those voices. A strange ache was forming deep inside her, as though the fog contained immeasurable sadness.

Through the gate was an area about half the size of the main cemetery. A cracked stone path led across the dry, dead grass, leading up to a pile of rubble. Stone columns flanked the path, all of them broken and lying in ruin. Alyssa crossed the fog-covered ground with slow but steady steps, drawn to the pile of rock and stone. As she neared it, she realized it wasn't just rubble; it was a stone platform, with the remains of a gray stone tomb near the middle of it.

As she approached the platform, the fog parted, moving away from the tomb. The form of a young woman materialized before her, as transparent as the fog itself. She was dressed in full armor, like a knight, with a helmet tucked under her arm. In her other hand she brandished a sword whose blade flickered and shimmered as tongues of fire danced along its length. Her dark brown hair was unmoved by the wind.

Alyssa didn't feel frightened. She felt a jolt of recognition, of kinship. This girl was a Rooder.

A dead Rooder.

As she watched, more warrior women joined the first, each one dressed like they were stepping out of a different time period. They fanned out and stood in different places among the rubble, until there were five of them total, each one holding a flaming sword.

The first one, who's sword burned red, spoke up, her voice low and mournful. "Long have I wandered in the darkness. Ever since I lost my life to an Entity."

"I'm trapped here," said a Rooder in a green tunic and wielding a sword of yellow. "Lost between this life and the next."

"Lost," echoed a third, dressed in a red coat and holding a sword that burned blue, "ever since an Entity stole my heart from me."

A fourth stood tall atop one of the broken columns, wearing chainmail and holding a sword that shone silver. "I failed my mission," she said, her voice harsh. "Now I am cursed to suffer in eternal darkness and pain."

"Don't let it happen to you," said the fifth, a girl with a short black bob and dressed in jeans and a brown windbreaker. Her sword glowed a gentle violet. "Whatever you do, you can't let the Ritual of Engagement take place."

As she was speaking, the five of them slowly started to fade, as if the fog was absorbing them. "Wait," cried Alyssa, rushing up onto the platform. "Don't go yet—what's the Ritual of Engagement?"

They were already gone, and her shouts echoed off into the darkness and faded away. Frustrated, Alyssa kicked at a pebble. "How can I prevent this ritual if I have no idea what it is?" she asked, speaking to no one in particular.

No doubt it was what that trench coat-wearing weirdo had planned for midnight, but what did it really mean? Just what did he plan to _do_?

Sighing, she turned around to face the cemetery and leaned back a little, resting her rear against the tomb. She let out a yelp and jerked forward as something shifted with a loud scraping sound. Turning around again, she inspected the tomb closely, though she could barely see it in the fog-bathed darkness. As she searched it with her fingers, she felt deep grooves and broken corners, all smooth and not a result of natural decay at all.

Clearly there was someone out there who wasn't interested in the suffering spirits finding their rest.

When searching proved fruitless, Alyssa curled her fingers around the edge and tried pushing. There was another loud scrape and the stone shifted again. Alyssa's heart flip-flopped; the lid was coming off.

The next thought to enter her head was that she was being silly—not to mention disrespectful—and that there was no reason for her to be opening old tombs, but the thought was overpowered by the feeling that this was something else that she needed to do. Her Rooder instincts hadn't steered her wrong yet, so she dug her heels into the ground and started pushing again.

Just when she was starting to think she was never going to get anywhere, the lid fell away all at once, shattering into pieces with an ear-splitting crash as it hit the ground. Peering inside, she saw a deep black hole beneath the tomb, and if the darkness that stretched out beyond her vision meant anything, she was looking down into a tunnel. What surprised her was the warm air that drifted up and touched her face.

Though she was operating in total darkness, Alyssa crawled over the side, hung from the edge and dropped down. She landed on her feet on flat ground and, after making sure she could reach to climb back out, turned around and started down the tunnel.

There was no trace of fear inside her. The warmth of the air was as comforting as the presence of an old friend. And at the end of the tunnel was a soft glow that flickered. As Alyssa drew nearer, the glow grew brighter, until she could make out the lines carved into the walls, forming intricate patterns.

She reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into a small, hexagon-shaped room. The source of the flickering light came from five torches, each one burning a different color that matched the swords of the Rooder spirits. The colors melded together on the walls and floor as the flames flickered and swayed, casting a kaleidoscope of color and shapes around her.

On the wall across from her was the same hexagon-shaped symbol she had seen in the cave. Beneath it was a marble pedestal, and placed atop it was a stone disc. It looked thick and heavy, but when Alyssa hefted it, it felt surprisingly light. One side was smooth, while the other had a crescent moon carved on it.

It was big, but she was just able to squeeze it into her outer jacket pocket. The disc thumped against her side—her good side—as she returned to the entrance of the tunnel and climbed out.

When she returned to the main part of the cemetery, something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. On the other side of the cemetery, across from the gate she had just passed through, were two large monuments, both standing taller than she did. Adorning the top of each of them was a cross with a design similar to the Celtic Cross. Moving closer, Alyssa saw lettering chiseled across the front of both monuments, but again it was in a language she didn't know.

What lay below the inscription was easier to figure out. A circular hole with a carving of a crescent moon inside it.

"Simple enough," Alyssa murmured, taking the stone disc out and pressing it into the hole. When nothing happened, she moved to the other monument. There was a hole here, too, with a carving of the sun inside it.

Her next task obvious, Alyssa moved away from the monuments and started roaming among the gravestones. She poked around the aged markers, prodding a few here and there, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She continued to circle the perimeter of the cemetery until she was rounding to the twin monuments again. As she was walking past a small cross with a chip in it, she noticed a large shadow on the wall to her right.

She stared at it curiously for several seconds, wondering what was casting the uneven rectangle—and then it hit her. It wasn't a shadow at all, it was a doorway, full of cracks and not at all as elegant—if a bit tarnished—as the iron gate behind her. Aside from its jagged edges where entire chunks had fallen out, the opening was being taken over by underbrush. Alyssa had to shove her way through, the rough leaves and twigs catching her skirt and scratching her legs.

The dirt path she was now walking on grew a little wider a few feet from the doorway, but the heavy brush and thick trees blocked out what little light there was, forcing her to move forward in complete darkness. She felt along the dirt with her feet, her hands outstretched in front of her to feel for any obstructions—and the glass bottle was out in front of her, too, uncapped and ready.

It wasn't hard to picture her enemy hiding somewhere nearby in an environment such as this. If anything, it suited him better than the metallic hallways had. And she knew their ineffective scuffle couldn't have driven him away, so he had to be close by, watching. Waiting.

Alyssa shivered and plodded on. The underbrush had taken over the path again, and she had to push and shove her way through. When she was finally clear, she stumbled out of the line of trees and found herself in another part of the cemetery.

She felt like she had just walked into a horror movie. The fog was thicker here, the heavy lines of stratus clouds as substantial here as they might have been in the sky. The sky itself had cleared a little, allowing the face of the moon to peek through. Despite the light it created, Alyssa felt far from comforted; seeing it between the widespread patches of gray cloud made her think of an eye pressed to a keyhole. The hairs on her arms stood on end as the feeling of being spied on settled firmly over her.

This new area was wide and open, with a stone path crafted during a bygone era winding through it. Directly to her left was a giant dead tree, complete with a fat crow that squawked angrily at her before streaking from the skeletal branches. Alyssa rubbed her arms as she started down the path, moving past rows and rows of grave markers. They were different from the simple, to-the-point headstones and crosses that were in the walled off area; some bore carvings of roses and thorns, giving them a Gothic look, while others, with their angry gargoyles and other ghoulish features, looked downright macabre.

The path curved and eventually met another, one that looked wide enough to be a road. It was big enough to accommodate a car—and it had. Across the widest part of the road, which curved around a slender monument that was almost as tall as a house, was a blue-gray car. It was tilting to one side, having crashed into the wrought iron fence that bordered the area. The driver-side door hung open, and by the light of the moon that glinted off the windshield, she could clearly see that the car was empty.

For a moment Alyssa could only stare. It looked as out of place in this environment as a stalk of corn in a patch of wild flowers, but there was no mistake; it was her mother's car.

Alyssa stared a moment more before bolting forward. She darted around the open door and checked the front seat, as well as the ground around and under the vehicle. But there was nothing to be found, not even a footprint in the dirt. She was about to give up when she spotted a sliver of white poking out from beneath the seat. She reached for it and felt—as she expected—a slip of paper, and she quickly pulled it free and unfolded it.

There was no greeting, just a hastily written, urgent message.

'I realize now—far too late—that sending you away was a mistake. I should have known it was no use trying to hide you, that the Entities would never give up so easily. And I have learned something that makes trying to keep your Rooder heritage a secret even more foolish; a force even more dangerous than the Subordinates themselves is working against us.

'I left this morning to come get you, as I should have long ago. If you're reading this now it means that I failed to reach you in time—and most likely am dead. Even if I am, I know you can handle this on your own. You're strong—I know you can defeat them. And no matter what happens, remember that I'm always with you in spirit.'

The words on the small paper started to blur as Alyssa's eyes began to fill, and she sank to her knees. She started folding the paper again—and then the all too familiar metallic ringing of an ax flying over her head sounded, followed by an explosive crash at it smashed through the car windshield. Alyssa's dropped the letter and ducked as a shower of broken glass rained down on her and the ground, sounding musical as it scattered across the stone road.

Dazed, she looked up and saw the gray-skinned Subordinate standing on the hood of her mother's car, bent over as he reached through the ruined windshield to retrieve his ax from where it had sunk into the front of the driver's seat. In a flash he spun around and jumped to the ground and, almost as an afterthought, swung his foot out and kicked her hard in the side with his heel before racing across the cemetery with inhuman speed. For a moment all Alyssa could do was lie on the ground, clutching her middle as tears of pain streamed down her face. Her vision was full of spots, and her mind was filled with an unhappy realization; he had figured out her weakness.

When the pain finally ebbed enough for her to move, she got shakily to her feet and looked around. Her enemy was standing near the towering monument, waiting for her to recover. As soon as she spotted him, he ran up the side of the monument, gave a leap and pirouetted in the air before landing on one foot atop the point of the monument, his movements as graceful as they were impossible.

He seemed to enjoy the look of pain and awe on her face, and he grinned wildly before making a sweeping gesture with an ax. "You see? This is what happens to those who dare stand against us. Nancy was just one of the many fools I've had to eliminate—just look around. Most of those lying beneath your feet this very moment were put there by me."

Alyssa didn't doubt it; he was much stronger than either Morris or Haigh, so he had probably been a Subordinate for many years. She thought about the five Rooder spirits and wondered if any of them had been victims of his ax.

She didn't believe what he said about her mother, though.

"She wouldn't lose to someone like you," she declared, backing away.

The Subordinate just laughed and dropped down from the monument. "Believe me or don't, it doesn't matter. It's almost time for the Ritual of Engagement to begin, so get ready to hand over your heart!"

He swiped, as wildly and carelessly as ever; Alyssa dodged backward, turned, and started to run. As her feet pounded the ground, her mind was churning. Again with that ritual; just what did it mean? She didn't assume for a second that 'handing over her heart' was meant figuratively.

She rounded a curve in the road and her thoughts on the ritual faded, her mind turning to ways she could escape. She already knew what was behind her on the other side of the cemetery, and there were no places to hide there, so she had to keep going. Though she wanted to throw her pursuer off track, first.

Thinking fast, she came to a dead stop and curled up on the ground. Taken completely off guard, her enemy ran into her full force. He tripped and went sprawling, and Alyssa was off like the wind. She ran straight back to the car and dodged around to the passenger side, where she crouched down and waited. Within seconds the Subordinate stomped by, muttering angrily under his breath. Alyssa peeked over the hood and waited until he was all but lost in the fog further up the path before moving.

Running as fast as she could without making much noise, she continued down the road, which slowly wound to the right. When all she saw were more rows of headstones to her right and more fence to her left, she was beginning to have her doubts about finding some place relatively safe here—and then she spotted a small building off to the side, half-hidden in the trees. It was falling into decay, but Alyssa hardly cared. She bolted up the creaky wooden steps, threw open the door and went inside.

Inside the cabin was a single room, separated vaguely down the middle by a wall-like structure decorated with dried and stretched skins. Old lanterns hung from the ceiling and Alyssa again wondered what time period she was in—but she was far more concerned with finding a safe place to hide until the danger had passed. She quickly followed the pseudo-hallway until it led her to a section that looked like it was supposed to be used for living in. There was a bed against one wall, a stove against the other, a desk between them, and a curtain hanging in the corner for privacy.

And embedded in the wall above the bed was something that told her she had made a big mistake by coming here; a row of axes of various sizes and shapes, each one of them bloodstained.

She was about to turn around and run back the way she came when she heart footsteps running up the front steps. And there was only one door--which she had left open, all but announcing where she was--and there was no time to find and break open a window.

She was trapped, and all she could do now was listen as the heavy footsteps came closer.


	22. Chapter 22: Killer No More

Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I could have sworn I'd already posted it. Whoops...

* * *

**Chapter 22: Killer No More  
**

Her mind frantic with thoughts of self preservation, Alyssa reached out for the privacy curtain hanging in the corner—but that was just plain silly. There was no way he was dumb enough to fall for that. Her only other option was just as silly—sillier—but it was all she had.

The sound of footsteps rounding the hall told her she had no more time to think about it, so she dropped to her belly and, only putting weight on her good side, rolled underneath the bed. Pressing against the wall, she clutched the glass bottle to her chest and tried not to breathe too loudly. Or deeply; her nostrils were filling with all sorts of unpleasant odors whose origins she couldn't begin to speculate. Not that she cared to.

The pungent smells wafting from the underside of the mattress and the dull throb in her side were forgotten as a pair of feet angrily stomped by her head. Try as she might to stay still, she couldn't help twisting her neck a little for a better look, though she could only see from the ankle down. He went straight for the curtain and drew it back, then let out a huff of air; a sigh of defeat?

She didn't dare hope. As he turned away from the corner, visions of him looking under the bed filled her mind. She pictured coming face to face with those horrid eyes, and being dragged out, kicking and screaming but completely helpless to get away.

He was walking past the bed, moving over to the desk. There was a soft scraping sound, followed by the rustle of paper. The Subordinate let out another huff. His left foot was tapping, giving Alyssa an excellent view of the black half moons beneath his toenails. After several seconds of tapping, he let out an angry snort.

"Nosy bastard...thinks he knows everything."

A book was knocked to the floor. Alyssa held her breath, waiting for him to turn around, but instead she saw a shimmer of purple light. She held her breath for several moments more, ears straining, but the cabin was dead silent. She was alone again.

She let out a shaky breath and slowly edged out from under the bed, careful not to bump her left side. As she sat up she accidentally bumped the discarded book with her foot. Curious, she flipped it over, and the words written on the page it opened to practically leaped out at her. Not because of what they said, but because she was again looking at her grandfather's handwriting.

'Before becoming possessed by an Entity, the human host usually leads a quiet, unassuming life. Not so in the case of Harold Powell. Born in Cardiff, Wales, in 1655, he faced constant ridicule from everyone around him due to his extreme physical deformities. Though he lived apart from the townsfolk, the young woodcutter was considered a living curse by the locals, and blamed for all sorts of calamities, from crops withering to sudden illness.

'Despite the abuse, he fell in love with the innkeeper's daughter when he was seventeen, even went so far as to propose marriage. Not only was the proposal cruelly rejected, Emily mocked Powell publicly. Enraged, Powell dragged Emily back to his cabin and dismembered her. Over the next two years, he continued to kidnap and murder young girls, until the villagers finally caught and hung him.

'What intrigues me the most about this story is that it remains unclear whether or not Powell was already possessed by an Entity when he murdered Emily. It is possible that a lifetime of physical and verbal abuse along with, as his desire for Emily suggests, a good deal of sexual frustration finally pushed him over the edge—a very tantalizing idea. Whatever the case, his extremely cruel and sadistic nature make him an excellent choice as leader of the Subordinates. Not only that, his physical prowess—something he was denied in life—gives him an edge the others just can't seem to grasp. The others are often slow, clumsy, and sometimes downright slow-witted. Powell is cunning, craft and easily able to out-think his prey. He has felled more Rooders than any of the others, and I know taking care of a few more will be easy for him.'

There was more, but a sound behind her made her toss the book away, whip the glass bottle out and leap to her feet. But there was nothing there. It was just the wind, making the windows creak and rattle in their flimsy frames.

Coaxing her heart to slow down again, Alyssa began to explore the rest of the cabin as her mind worried over what she had just read.

There was no doubt now who was responsible for sending the Rooders she had seen to their graves. Killing young girls was his specialty. What disturbed her most, however, was how the writing looked so like her grandfather's. She couldn't understand why they were trying to deceive her; her grandfather had spent most of his life helping the Hamilton family fight against the Entities. The writer sounded so pleased with Powell's abilities, and there was no way her grandfather would ever take pride in such horrible things. And how could he have gotten here, anyway? For that matter, how had her mother? This cemetery definitely wasn't a place—or time—that was between the boarding school and home.

The book was quickly forgotten as she spotted something on top of the old wooden desk; a round disc with a carving of the sun. Skipping her pocket this time, Alyssa clutched it tightly in one hand and the glass bottle in the other as she ran from the cabin. Ready to be jumped at any time, she ran back down the road. To her surprise, she made past her mother's car, the dead tree, and pushed her way through the overgrown path again without incident. As soon as she was through, she ran to the second monument and set the sun disc in place.

Nothing happened.

Puzzled, Alyssa tried twisting and pressing the disc, but it couldn't go any deeper. She checked the moon disc, then began pacing back and forth in front of the monuments as the gears of her mind started turning.

Obviously, whatever the discs unlocked was something important—important to a Rooder, specifically. Despite that, it was still possible for someone else to get a hold of them. There had to be a way to keep non-Rooders from actually using them—otherwise her enemies would have stolen away whatever secret they held by now.

Alyssa thumped her fist against her palm as the obvious solution hit her; she had to prove she was a Rooder. She uncapped the glass bottle and started sprinkling water on one of the monuments, paying particular mind to the stone disc and the inscription. Once satisfied she had doused it enough, she moved on and started sprinkling the other one. As soon as the droplets struck, bright white light flared up and flooded her vision. Startled, Alyssa staggered back as she instinctively flung her arms in front of her eyes. She was blinded and couldn't see a thing, but she could feel rippling in the air around her, as if the cemetery were flowing like water.

The odd sensation and the blinding light vanished all at once, and when Alyssa lowered her arms she found herself standing in a wide, cavern-like room. A rough dirt ceiling arched above her head and pebbles crunched beneath her feet. Torches lined the walls, and directly in front of her was a raised dais, flanked by two statues bearing larger torches. And between the statues, etched across the stone wall so intricately it looked like a tapestry, was an image that made her flesh crawl.

A girl lay on a mock-bed of white marble—a Rooder girl, dressed in white robes and a pair of yellow-brown sandals that laced up the calf, like something out of the Roman Empire. Only she wasn't lying in a position of relaxation. The figure hung limp, dead—and looming above her was the image of a man dressed in black robes and holding a dagger in one hand. The other was stretched out toward the helpless girl, as if poised to snatch something from her.

The gruesome scene sent chills through her, but she felt compelled to move closer, and she absently slipped the bottle back under her belt as her feet carried her up the steps and onto the dais. As she drew nearer, she saw lines of text beneath the image. Lines of text so small she had to squint to make them out, and even then she couldn't read them. For a moment she worried it was all in the same script as on the monuments, but as she looked down the long rows of words, she realized it was the same thing written over and over again, each line carved in a different language, as if someone wanted to make sure what was written would be understood no matter who came along. She traced her finger down the lines, skimming over French and Latin and dozens of others she couldn't identify. When she reached English, she went to the beginning and began to read.

'If one's desire is to become an Entity, the quickest, surest path is this, the Ritual of Engagement: Rend the chest of a Rooder who is fifteen years of age and of one's own bloodline and drink deep the blood of her beating heart. Thus will all the power and strength of the Entity be bestowed upon thee.'

Alyssa recoiled from the inscription so fast she almost tumbled down the stairs. "Drink my blood?" she cried out loud. "What sort of mad, twisted..."

It wasn't a question she needed to ask; she knew the answer. _This_ was the ritual that evil man dressed in black had planned for her. But knowing what he meant to do only raised more questions.

This proved her original hunch—that he was just a mortal human—so why were the Subordinates obeying him? And even if he succeeded, the ritual wouldn't work. The inscription clearly stated that the Rooder had to be from the same bloodline—and there was no way that freakish figure was family to her.

Even as she told herself this, something started scratching at the back of her mind, but she forced it back. She wasn't ready to allow that particular thought to claw its way to the surface. Not yet.

She put her troubled mind to rest for now and focused on exploring the rest of the cavern. She didn't have to look far; there was a long groove beneath the inscription, and something lying inside it glistened in the torchlight. It was a gold-colored arrow, and judging by its age and decorative appearance it could easily be mistaken for a mere ornament, but as Alyssa lifted it with her fingers she felt power pulsing inside it, as tangible as the flow of water beneath a thin sheet of ice.

Alyssa knelt and held the arrow up to the torchlight for a better look. As she raised it above her head, the golden object started to glow with its own inner light. Points of white light, like stars, glittered along the shaft, and warmth as soothing as the sun spread through her fingers. The feeling continued rapidly, traveling through her hands and up her arms. In a matter of seconds she felt as she were being bathed in purest sunlight as the warmth covered her from head to toe. A sense of renewal flowed in her veins, giving her strength and lifting her spirits. She felt ready to take on anything.

The glow inside the arrow began to fade—and the arrow with it. It grew translucent, then transparent, and then faded from sight altogether, the weight of it leaving her fingers like vapor.

Only it wasn't gone. The power it once held was inside her now, forever a part of her. Alyssa stood and reached a hand down to her belt as she formed a picture in her mind of her true weapon. She sent out her thoughts, conveying her want—her need. Her fingers brushed smooth, curved glass. She gripped it and smiled faintly.

All at once the image before her shimmered and faded, and the caverns walls dissolved around her. She found herself back in the cemetery, the chill wind blowing around her. The twin monuments were gone, leaving no trace of their secrets behind.

"Just what is it you're planning to do?" a voice behind her demanded coarsely.

Alyssa turned around slowly. The being once known as Harold Powell stood on the arch above the gate that led to where the Rooder ghosts were. Axes held out at his sides, he looked grayish-white against the foggy blackness of the sky. The streaks of red on his face stood out sharply, making it look like his skin was stained with blood.

His mouth suddenly twisted into a cruel smile. "Maybe you intend to bring peace to the pathetic souls who languish here?" he wondered, pacing along the length of the arch as he spoke.

As Alyssa watched him warily, her mind called up what she had just read about the life of this particular Subordinate. As she had already guessed, the being she faced had centuries on Morris and Haigh—centuries spent honing his deadly skills. In spite of this he had, she remembered with an unsettled feeling in her stomach, been much younger when he died, a mere boy a few years older than herself.

Somehow, that made it all the more intimidating to face him now.

"Or maybe," he went on, his smile turning to a wild grin, "you're hoping you'll magically see your dear mother again if you get rid of me."

"Maybe I am," Alyssa shot back angrily. "Let's find out."

Pulling the glass bow from where it hung, ready and waiting, from her belt, she readied and fired off an arrow of light. As it sailed directly toward her enemy, she noted that it appeared to be brighter and swifter than before, even though she had only charged it for an instant.

Neither surprised or impressed, the Subordinate flipped off the arch and landed, crouched, behind a gravestone. Alyssa watched him through narrowed eyes, taking pleasure in knowing that his carefree attitude would soon come to an end. He wouldn't be able to shrug off her attacks—not this time.

But she couldn't get a clear shot from her current position, so she, bow raised, began carefully backing away, trying to move to a spot where she could be sure she wouldn't clip a headstone or marker. Her eyes never left her attacker, her muscles tensing as she braced for any sudden movement he might make.

None came.

The Subordinate was doing the same thing she was; watching his opponent's every move, waiting to see what she planned to do. As the seconds ticked by and they both continued to do little other than shuffle back and forth cautiously, weapons raised and pointed, Alyssa realized they were both waiting for the other to make the first move. And at this rate—neither would.

Telling herself that she had the advantage since she could fire off shot after shot without waiting for her weapon to come back to her, Alyssa continued to back away as she slowly charged a fresh arrow. As the golden energy sparked between her fingers, it felt stronger and wilder, and she was filled with courage and determination.

At this distance he would probably dodge, but at least then he would finally move and she could—hopefully—form a strategy.

But when she fired the pulsing arrow of light, something happened that she wasn't expecting.

The Subordinate didn't dodge. Instead, he drew himself straight and stood tall, with both axes crossed in front of his chest. Her arrow struck the flat sides of the blades, burst like sparks from a golden fire, and faded away harmlessly.

For a moment Alyssa could only stare, horrified that even her new strength wasn't enough. The next instant she was bolting for the cover of one of the many headstone as an ax came flying her way. It bounced off the stone, sending chunks flying, before racing back to its master—who was chuckling jovially.

"Is that all you've managed to cull from your forbearers? I'm disappointed."

Gritting her teeth, Alyssa fired off another shot—it went wild and missed her target by feet—and darted to the other side of the cemetery, stopping near the gate. She turned and started to raise her bow again—but her enemy was rushing her with all the fury and force of a wild bull.

Alyssa hesitated a second too long as she thought about trying to fire at the leering face looming in front of her—just a tiny one that would slow him down—and was forced to throw herself to the ground as both blades swung at her head. She rolled to the side and tried kicking at her attacker's shins, but he merely back-flipped onto a headstone, cackling like a madman.

Her mind racing, Alyssa clambered to her feet and tried firing another arrow—only to throw herself down again as an ax sailed through the air toward her. Not wanting to be idle for a second, she rolled onto her back and watched the ax bounce off the far wall. She gauged its return path and got back on her feet before it finished its return journey, the whirling blade coming dangerously close to her left shoulder.

The left shoulder that was already bleeding, thanks to being clipped when Powell swung at her a moment ago. It was only a scrape, or so she thought; the adrenaline pumping through her veins made it hard to tell. She already had burns on her right shoulder—all she needed now was a broken rib on her left side and she would match all around.

Alyssa was fed up. She wanted to get away from this dark, cold, dreadful place, and from this time she couldn't quite name—but mostly she wanted to get away from the being that relentlessly chased her over what was meant to be a resting place for the dead. She never wanted to see his horrid face again, or hear that insane laugh that enjoyed mocking her pain so much.

Fatigue was rapidly robbing her newfound energy from her limbs, and her arms ached as she raised the bow again. Again, Powell didn't bother dodging, and this time he blocked with only one ax. The other he let fly, something Alyssa was growing so used to she simply ducked down, chin to her knees, without giving it much thought.

She waited until the ax had passed over her head again before getting up and darting to the corner of the cemetery, where the path that led through the woods was. Not that she planned to use it; the tight space and pitch blackness would make her a laughably easy target.

Instead, she turned and ducked down again, her mind searching desperately for a solution. The most obvious one that presented itself to her was that she needed to wait until his guard was down—specifically when he was preparing to throw an ax. If he threw them both it would be easy, but he wasn't anywhere near that stupid, and Alyssa knew that if she somehow managed to get one of them away from him, he would stop throwing the other and take a more direct approach—not a good scenario for her.

Her only option was to time her attack perfectly. She moved back and forth across the grounds, ducking behind crosses and headstones, waiting for an opening. The only time he seemed remotely vulnerable was when he drew his arm back to throw an ax—if she aimed perfectly, she just might get his chest. If he didn't block with his other ax, first.

But there wasn't anything else she could try, and the next time she saw him draw his arm back, she whipped her bow up and aimed carefully. The other ax was raised slightly, blocking her view of his chest enough to make her doubtful she could hit it. Thinking fast, she shifted her sight a little and aimed for his shoulder. There was no time to charge, and the arrow that flew from her bow was tiny and weak. And at that same instant the ax came flying her way.

And then something happened that shocked them both.

For a moment the world seemed to slow down, so much so that Alyssa could the ax turning and turning in the air, glinting silver-blue even in the dull light as it came closer and closer to her. She saw her own arrow, so pathetic-looking in comparison, whizzing ever forward like a miniscule comet. She pictured it being smashed into golden dust like before—and then there would be nothing left to protect her. She didn't believe she would be able to duck out of the way this time.

The two airborne objects did indeed collide, with a metallic crack that echoed throughout the cemetery. Her tiny arrow faded like a star winking out—but the ax, just as it did after bouncing off a wall, was now racing back to its master.

And, judging by the astonished look on his face, its master hadn't planned on this abrupt turn of events. The same instant Alyssa realized that the weapon was heading away from her instead toward her, the heavy object hit the Subordinate's forehead with another crack—a bone-crunching one—before falling harmlessly to the ground.

Alyssa, who was equally astonished by what had just happened, couldn't be sure which part of the ax had struck its master—handle or blade—but the affects were clear. The Subordinate teetered and slumped against a nearby headstone, where he lay stunned and motionless.

The young Rooder wasted no time raising her bow, but as she pointed it at the helpless being, she found herself hesitating. As evil as he was, it felt wrong to attack someone who was all but unconscious. It felt like stepping into a territory she was supposed to be above entering.

But her Rooder instincts promptly piped up, reminding her that any sign of mercy would be rewarded with a cruel death. Alyssa set her jaw and let her charged arrow fly.

The Subordinate lifted his head just in time to see it coming. When it struck he recoiled with his usual roar and Alyssa expected—with great disappointment—for him to recover with his usual swiftness, but instead he staggered for several long moments. Long enough for her to prepare and fire another arrow.

The first hit seemed to have robbed him of all confidence, and the second had him retreating from her altogether. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting her to get the upper hand. And with one of his axes lost, he no longer had the means to properly defend himself.

The more weary he became, the more elated Alyssa felt, until she was sure she was glowing from head to toe. She practically pranced amongst the headstones while her enemy hobbled, howling and cursing, as it became harder and harder for him to move the more damage his body took. He wasn't acrobatic anymore, turning and flipping wherever and whenever he pleased; he was a lumbering beast, trying desperately to escape as he went from predator to prey.

In a last ditch effort, he hurled his remaining ax at her, but Alyssa dodged it with ease. With both weapons gone, he was defenseless against her attacks, and Alyssa took fool advantage of this. It wasn't long before she sensed him weakening completely, nearing the moment where his body would fail him entirely.

One foot propped against a headstone, she raised her bow for the last time. "This is for all the Rooders you killed."

Powell didn't bother trying to dodge. As is giving up what he knew was a lost battle, he shut his eyes and let the blazing arrow rip through him. His screams echoed into the night as his body dissolved, merging with the fog until no trace of him remained. Alyssa took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and return the bow to her belt before rushing to the spot the Subordinate last stood.

Something glittered in the gray dirt. Only it wasn't merely a silver heart-shape with an emerald—it was the entire framework of the clover necklace, including the silver chain. Alyssa knelt and carefully scooped the pendant into her hand. With her other hand, she removed the two pieces she had collected from her pocket and pressed them into the frame with the third one. Now only one leaf remained—but Alyssa wasn't worried about it.

Her only worry now was for her mother, and she was growing more and more frightened for her safety. She hadn't wanted to believe what the evil beings had said, but her instincts—as well as her common sense—were starting to tell her they might actually be speaking the truth. Her mother had vaguely hinted more than once that her necklace was very special, and very important—Alyssa just hadn't understood what that meant until now. She was convinced that it had to be some form of Rooder tool, one her mother wouldn't relinquish unless...

Alyssa forced back the tears that were threatening to form and slipped the silver chain over her head. The clover pendant thumped against her chest as she got to her feet and moved to the area beyond the gate. The Rooder spirits were again standing beside the tomb.

"Thank you, Alyssa," the one in night's armor said. "We can finally rest now."

Her ghostly form, already transparent, faded until it was gone.

"Keep fighting them," the one in chainmail told her. "Death is a better fate than succumbing to the ritual."

"Be brave," called the girl with the black bob as she, too, faded away. Alyssa watched until the last of them had gone. She felt peaceful inside, knowing that they would find be able to rest, but she also felt exhausted. More than anything she wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep.

"Alyssa."

Hearing her own name, spoken in a soft, warm voice, made her heart stop. She spun around, her wide eyes darting around wildly. "Mum?"

For a moment she thought she saw her, dressed in white, running toward her through the fog, which seemed to be growing steadily thicker. Straining to see, Alyssa stretched out a hand and moved forward—and found herself face to face with the dark visage of the one who was responsible for her night of terror.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man dressed in black said, laughing mockingly at her as she recoiled, sickened.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he went on, his grin wide and unpleasant. "I'm afraid your mother is nothing more than a memory now. And you know what I want for you, so come; give your heart to me so we can be joined together forever."

"I'll die first," Alyssa hissed. Her hand fumbled for her belt; her weapon was still in the shape of the bow. She gripped it tightly, ready to end this here and now.

"Oh? Still a little fight left? Very well: I've one Subordinate left for you to play with before the clock strikes midnight. Watching you exhibit your stubborn Rooder will is so entertaining—though I admit I grow impatient."

As he spoke, the world began warping and twisting in a sickening way. The ground beneath her feet shuddered and shook, and the already cracked and broken pillars around her shattered and fell.

"See you soon, my sweet Alyssa," the wicked voice called as the world faded to darkness.


End file.
